


Life on the Outside

by Orion (g0at)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (Most are very NSFW. You have been warned)., Adopted Sibling Relationship, Asriel is tougher than he looks, Codependency, DFAB Frisk, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fantastic Racism, Monster!Frisk, Narrator Chara, Nonbinary Chara and Frisk, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Post-Undertale Soulless Pacifist Route, Reader Is Frisk, Soft Chara (for a given value of 'soft'), Teenage Asriel Dreemurr, Teenage Frisk, Transformation, into, slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6048409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0at/pseuds/Orion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years ago, you did the impossible and helped to free a race from its subterranean tomb.<br/>You found lifelong friends.  You found family.<br/>You found the powers of a god.<br/>You found what you could become when given the opportunity to play with the fabric of time.</p>
<p>You found a group of people in your way.<br/>You found yourself helpless.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>You’re finding that godlike powers aren’t always necessary to get a happy ending.</p>
<p>  <i>(Self-indulgent, fluffy fic where everyone is a lil' damaged and terrible.  But love blooms anyway).</i><br/>  <i>(Formerly titled 'Animosity of the Magi').</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lazarus

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! Here's a little something something I've been working on. Please leave whatever feedback you can. Any comments or criticism are appreciated.
> 
> **NOW UPDATED FOR GRAMMAR AND SENTENCE FLOW**

Thump.  Thump.  Thump.  With each bump in the road, you’re sent upwards an inch or so, chest straining against the rigid nylon of your seatbelt.  Dust fills the air outside your family’s small sedan, fine brown particles rising in great clouds as rubber tears into dirt.  Through the dust-stained window, you can see seemingly-infinite waves of amber and green, painted orange by the sunset, shadows stretching into infinity.  The sky is set ablaze, clouds of flaming cotton paint the sky a furious red, stark shadows cutting into the pale blue of the country afternoon. 

 

Your father’s fur and beard are streaked with the same blood-orange as the clouds, though he pays the colour no mind, electing instead to tap his great clawed fingers against the leather-padded steering wheel, humming an old tune to himself.  His tired blue eyes survey the empty road ahead, desperately searching for a place to stop for the night.  Your brother, bless him, has been lulled into quiet oblivion by the slow rock of the car’s suspension.  His fur splays out against the car door.  Your mother stays silent and passive, scanning the road ahead with your father.  You?  You’re a painful mixture of bored and nervous.  There’s nothing much to do in the car besides watch identical rows of grain roll past your window, but the trembling of your gut reminds you of the invisible danger of the empty countryside. 

 

The humans in such out-of-the-way places are never fond of monsters. 

 

An understatement, but all you are willing to tell yourself.  The stinging of sweat on your brow, the strain of your muscles readying to run…  You’re scared.  You should be.

 

And in that moment of illogical terror, your father sees it, rising out of the grain like Lazarus from the dead, towering over an ocean of brown and green.  A motel, blanched by years of relentless sunlight and walls covered in that omnipresent dust.  A meagre two stories tall, its black shingles wilt in the evening sun.  Your car jerks to a stop outside of the dusty hovel, sending one last cloud of brown into the air.  Your father’s sharp horns tear through the felt lining the car’s roof.  You grit your teeth at the noise of wanton property-destruction as he heads out- into the dust, into the decrepit wooden building.  A few moments pass.

 

 Your brother, Asriel, is awake and confused.  Toriel, your mother, fixes the building’s ragged wooden door with a hawkish glare.  Every moment finds your breath catching in your throat, sweat building up on your brow.  Then, he ducks through the door, goofy grin splitting his muzzle.  He shoots you all a big thumbs-up, and you quickly pile out of the car.  You and Asriel take advantage of the moment to stretch out the cricks built up from hours in a small vehicle, and you release a breath that you didn’t even know you had been holding.  An overweight, greasy-looking human male waves the two of you inside, eyes darting around nervously. 

 

Once he’s shut the door behind you, you take closer stock of the man.  His skin is greasy and gives off a sickly, yellowish shine, his eyes are small and brown.  They dart two and fro as if they’re trying to escape his head.  Thick, black, unkempt hair hangs down in filthy tangled knots over his head, and he reeks of mildew and unwashed human and dust.  His thick, square-rimmed glasses are clouded with grease and dust, and you briefly wonder how he can see through them.  Patchy stubble dots his chin.  He offers his hand to your father, and Asgore tentatively shakes it.  You watch as the man’s sausagelike fingers rub up against each other after he’s done shaking Asgore’s hand, as if subconsciously trying to scrub the monster’s influence away.  He shoots you a nervous smile, yellowed teeth flashing momentarily before he clears his throat. 

 

“Uh.  Right.  Sorry ‘bout, y’know.”  He waves his hand vaguely through the air, motioning at nothing in particular.  “But, uh, the locals wouldn’t take too kindly to knowing that monster royalty was shacking up here.”  He fidgets awkwardly, hands clenching and unclenching.  You’re briefly reminded of an old friend from a long time ago, a frycook with a similar demeanour.  “Anyways, I guess I’ll show you guys to your room…  Uh…  Your majesties?  Is that what I call you guys?”  “You may call us by our names, if you like,” Toriel responds with a lighthearted chuckle.  The man clearly doesn’t feel comfortable with that, so he just bobs his head up and down a few times before shambling down the grey-carpeted hallway.  White plaster is peeling from the walls, and the lights above your head flicker uncertainly as you pass.  Time has not been kind to this place.  Your family follows, and he beckons to a half-rotted door constructed of cheap plywood.  Its handle is rusty, and turns with an audible screech.  The door swings open into an appallingly-small room.  Its beds are in surprisingly-good condition, but mysterious black stains dot the ceiling and the room is lit by a lone, hanging lightbulb.  The incandescent light sends wide arcs of shadow splaying around the room.  An odd, quaint display. 

 

Asgore pads into the poorly-lit room first, scowl etched on his muzzle.  He’s never been one for opulence, but the conditions of this ratty motel speak to years of neglect.  Nonetheless, it’s the only place for your family to stay.  With a sigh, your father picks a white-sheeted bed and falls into it.  Toriel follows suit.  You and Asriel stand in the doorframe for a moment, before the reeking human waves the two of you in.  He slams the door shut and shuffles back down the hallway, to get back to god-knows-what. 

 

Awkward silence pervades the room.  Asgore quickly dozes off, and Toriel flicks a lightswitch to shut off the obnoxious dangling lightbulb.  She lays silently as you and Asriel contemplate the small bed that you’re supposed to be sharing.

 

“So.  That sure is a bed.”

“It sure is, Az.”

He clears his throat quietly, avoiding eye-contact.  “If you want, I could just sleep on the floor or something.”

“Not gonna let you do that.”

He grumbles quietly and shoots you a small, half-hearted grin.  “Alright, Frisky business.”

“Don’t call me that.”

 

With a shit-eating grin on his face, he falls into bed.  Guess nobody’s wearing pyjamas tonight, huh?  Just as well.  There’s not even a bathroom attached to your room.  You crawl under clean white linens, leaving Asriel what personal space you can, and quickly fall asleep in the warm southern afternoon

...

 

_The acrid scent of brimstone burns your nostrils.  Your eyes snap open, and you’re face-to-face with the human from earlier, in a blackened, empty space.  His movements are jerky and syncopated.  His fingers twitch around awkwardly as if trying to trap the air around them, and he grinds his teeth together.  Thick purple smoke billows out of his mouth, past his yellowed teeth, as he lets out a long, hollow moan.  His eyes roll back in their sockets as he crumples to the floor in a quivering pile of flesh and cloth.  The smoke forms a vaguely humanoid shape.  Tendrils of violet snake through the air lazily, coiling around you, holding you…_

_And then, a feminine voice echoes through the void, into your very SOUL._

_“Greetings.”_

_You shiver at the hollow echo of Her voice, but you cannot move, cannot speak.  You struggle, but to no avail._

_“You must be the ambassador I have heard so much about.  You are not very impressive in person.”_

_A high pitched, keening laugh echoes around you, coming from everywhere at once._

_“Such a shame, too!  I have been waiting for you for a very long time, traitorous child.  And after years of careful planning on my part, you stumble into my domain without any warning.  What a waste.”_

_You shudder in revulsion at the intensifying stench of sulphur that accompanies her every sentence._

_“Do not mistake my complaints for regret, child.  I am glad that you have come to me so willingly.  Now, I am sure that you have your questions.  Go on.  Ask of me what you will.”_

_Your throat clenches and unclenches.  You choke for a moment, but the words come flowing out quickly enough._

_You call for help._

_“Who do you expect to come rushing to your aid?  Your parents abandoned you.  Nobody wants you.  Nobody but me.”_

_A throaty cackle bounces through the room, and the smoke grows darker._

**_“That’s not true.  My parents were in my room with me when I went to sleep.  You took me away from them.”_ **

_The voice snickers quietly._

_“Those abominations composed of dust and magical energy are not your family, prodigal child.  Your SOUL is so much more powerful, your DETERMINATION strong enough to shatter time itself…  And yet you choose to stay with a family of beasts.  Why?  Do you truly hate your own kind that much?”_

**_“I don’t hate anyone.  I just love Mom and Dad and Az.  Why’s that hard to understand?”_ **

_“I would call this a case of Stockholm syndrome, but I am fairly certain that you brought the small one back from death yourself.  An impressive feat, but ultimately futile.”_

**_“Why do you care?”_ **

_“Because you undid my life’s work, you idiotic child.  I was young, and rich, and beautiful, and I gave it all away to ensure that humanity could have a future.  I gave my very SOUL to erect that barrier, and you tore it down in an instant.”_

_The smoke coils around your neck and you find it harder and harder to draw breath._

**_“S-so you’re angry?”_ **

_“Anger is for short-sighted fools.  I am merely confused.  Why would you unleash such a curse upon humanity once again?  Do you really hate your own kin that much?”_

_You throat clenches and unclenches, but produces no sound._

_“Or…  Do you consider yourself to be one of THEM?  Who do you consider to be your ilk, child?  Humans or monsters?”_

_The vicelike grip around your throat loosens as this THING gives you the chance to answer.  The rational part of your mind reminds you that ‘humans’ is definitely the safe choice, here.  Far less likely to get you murdered by possessed smoke._

_Unfortunately, you are not a very rational person.  Instead, you defiantly narrow your eyes, a gesture familiar to anyone who knows you well._

_Remembering a certain robotic superstar, you strike a dramatic pose.  You stand tall, plant a hand on your chest, and glare determinedly into the distance, pointing defiantly at…  Nothing in particular._

**_“Monsters.”_ **

_Genuine, incredulous laughter floods your mind.  You hold your pose despite the pain your head as the laughter continues, manic and intense._

_“I-I am sorry, one moment, what WAS that?  What was that stupid pose, what was- What was ANY of that?  Why would you strike a pose while dealing with the spirit of a dead mage?  What kind of strange child are you?”_

_You jokingly offer your hand to the deformed figure of smoke.  You’re still nervous as hell, but it seems that you’ve broken through to it on some level.  Who knew that Mettaton-tier dramatic posing would ever come in handy?_

**_“The name’s Frisk.”_ **

_The thing calms itself enough to extend a tendril of smoke to meet your hand._

_And then you feel it yank your cherry-red SOUL right out of your chest.  Your very essence floats in front of you, aching dully as the voice suddenly regains its cold venom._

_“Do not think that I would forget your choice because of an idiotic pose.”_

_You cry out as you feel the pain in your very SOUL grow and grow, a dull ache quickly deteriorating into a sharp, jabbing sensation.  It is as if your entire being is being impaled, over and over and over._

_“Do not worry, little ambassador.  I will not kill you.  I do not have that power anymore.”_

_“No, I am just going to give you exactly what you wanted.  Sweet dreams.”_

_The world around you fades into darkness as the smoke dissipates, leaving you to the void with an aching SOUL and an empty mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Fixed some janky wording.


	2. Unexpected Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Frisk loses something very important. 
> 
> And gains something that they've wanted for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, what? Six comments and 40 follows? That's, uh, unexpected. Sorry for the long wait on chapter two.  
> And the constant capitalization of SOUL. I just felt that since the game did it, it must be important. 
> 
> Oh, and a special thanks to C Square, qwertyuiop_412, Rieth, and the 37 guests who left Kudos on my work! It means a lot!

You awake with a start, clutching at your chest as you gasp for air.  Asriel is quickly woken by your outburst.  He rolls over with a groan.  It’s too dark in your room to see, but you can feel the warmth radiating from your adoptive brother. 

Knowing that your family is close at hand to comfort you after your nightmare should fill you with DETERMINATION.

Instead, you merely feel a sense of satisfaction and happiness.  That’s…  Close enough, you suppose. 

“You alright, Frisk?”

A residual ache pounds at your SOUL, but you don’t want to worry Asriel at this hour.  It wouldn’t be fair.

 

“M’fine.  Nightmares.  Go back to sleep, Az.”  You roll over so that your back is facing your adopted sibling as you bury your face in the cold side of your pillow.  You feel pressure on your waist as two furred arms snake their way around you, holding you tight. 

It’s a bit awkward, honestly, but Asriel’s too soft and warm for you to muster any real complaints.   If he wants to be your personal space heater, who are you to disagree?

You drift off once more, nostrils filled with the scents of clean linen and goat fur…

 

…

 

Morning.

Sunlight streams into the room through a chink in the grey, moth-bitten blinds.  Birdsong is faintly audible outside. 

You wake up first, blinking the sleep out of your eyes.  The intense ache in your SOUL hasn’t died down yet, which concerns you.  You should probably talk to your mother about that.  Eh.  Later.  Carefully, so as not to wake your brother, you disentangle yourself from his arms and swing your legs over the side of the bed.  You lock your knees, plant your white-sock-covered feet on the floor, and pull yourself to standing.  Your brown corduroys are rather wrinkled from being slept in- at least your wool sweater is virtually impervious to all attempts to make it look any rattier.  Uh, except for the white fur clinging to it.  Delightful.

 

Your brown leather boots are stiff from sitting around unworn.  With a quiet grunt, you work your feet into them, then pull the black nylon laces into tight knots.  There you are.  You sit down on the side of the bed, feet planted on the floor, and wait for someone else to wake up.  You never were a patient child, but it would be inconsiderate to wake the others before they’re well-rested.  Another day on the road is ahead. 

 

A part of you is resentful that Asgore had insisted upon this “family roadtrip” to the annual conference on human-monster relations.  It strikes you as rather unprofessional.  Then again, so is having a child ambassador.  A child who can screw with time, sure, but only Sans and Asriel know that.  In the eyes of the others, you are simply a remarkably lucky youth.  Well.  You suppose you have no room to complain.  If the king of all monsters wants to experience this strange country through a road trip, then he will. 

America is quite different from the nation of your birth.  Warmer in climate and disposition, if that makes any sense.  Its people are a little less standoffish, a little readier to smile, and a LOT less terrified by the monsters.  You’re glad that this massive nation is backing the kingdom you now call home, though you’re not entirely sure as to _why_ they’ve been so cordial.  Perhaps it is because neither of your nations is on kind terms with the Kingdom’s neighbour, the country from which it seized its land, the former proprietor of Mount Ebbot. 

 

Republia, the nation of your birth, a land perpetually enveloped in snow and ice.  Republia, with its grey, crumbling cities built by decades-old civic ordinances meant to help the poor.  Republia, with its rows of identical soldiers clad in olive, ready to strike at anything that might pose a threat to the grey north. 

Republia, the enemy of the Kingdom of Monsters, the former Soviet satellite.  An ocean away from this place…

You tear yourself away from your thoughts when you hear the sheets behind you shift.  You turn around to see Asriel sitting upright, studying you intently.  He lurches backwards when you make eye-contact with him, letting out a soft cry of surprise.  You stifle a laugh and tilt your head at him. 

 

“Uh…  Sorry, Frisk.  You’re just, uh, giving off kind of a weird vibe?” 

“I was just thinking, Az.  That’s all.”

“Nonono! I don’t mean the way you’re acting.  Everyone spaces out sometimes.  I mean, more, uh…”

He’s nervous, now.  If he could sweat, he’d be sweating buckets.  Instead, he sits there twiddling his thumbs awkwardly, avoiding looking straight at you. 

“Well, uh, your SOUL is kind of…”

He knows that something’s wrong.  That pain in your SOUL…  He can sense it, can’t he?

“Your SOUL is, uh…  Giving off…  Magic?”

“What.”

 

He’s trembling now, and his blush is visible even through his thick white fur.  You don’t understand why he’s so damn flustered.  You motion at him to continue. 

“Well, humans don’t really DO magic.  I think they used to, but something happened…  Anyways, your SOUL.  You should probably make sure it’s alright.  Mom and Dad said that magic isn’t good for humans, so if it’s inside of you that’s, uh, not good…  I’m sorry Frisk I just-“

You shush him.  So he’s just concerned for your wellbeing.  You allow yourself a small smile- Asriel’s always been an overprotective ball of fluff, hasn’t he?  He always freaks out over the smallest things.  Yeah, sure, there’s a pain in your SOUL, but it’s not that bad.  Azzy’s just making a mountain out of a-

 

“Earth to Frisk!  Can I make sure your SOUL is okay?” 

Uh, right.  He wants to check on it.  You nod, and he clenches his eyes shut.  Your dear brother isn’t great with magic, so he needs to concentrate pretty hard to do something as simple as summon your SOUL.  A familiar lightheadedness comes to you as an invisible weight pulls outwards from your chest.  A soft red glow pours from you as Asriel gently coaxes your SOUL forth.  Your extremities go numb, as they always do, and a small, cartoonish heart materializes in front of you. 

 

Your SOUL.  As always, it glows a lovely shade of bright red, bobbing up and down as if in an invisible ocean.  You’re taken aback when you focus on it a little more clearly.  Splotches of white mar its surface, giving off their own pearlescent sheen.  They’re no less beautiful than the thing they’re decorating, but they _shouldn’t be there_.  You push yourself backwards, falling to the ground in a heap. Your SOUL follows suit, hovering a few inches away from your chest as it always does.  Asriel pounces forward, eyes wide-open and darting about in fear.  You stand again, knees threatening to give out as you regard your SOUL more closely.  The blotches pulse on their own frequency, giving off far more light than your SOUL’s natural red.  With each pulse, pain shoots through you, dull and persistent.  You sit back down on the bed. 

 

Asriel’s muzzle hangs open as he regards the culmination of your being, marred by some sort of magical impurity. 

“Frisk…  Frisk, what happened to you?”

You try your best to shrug nonchalantly, though your chest is heaving with terror.  _Keep calm.  It’s nothing.  Keep calm.  It’s nothing._

“Frisk, your SOUL…  What’s wrong with it?  Why’s it look like that?  Frisk, answer me.”

Tears are forming at the corners of his eyes now.  Good job, you made him cry.  Sure, he’s a big ol’ oversensitive crybaby, but that doesn’t do much to alleviate your growing guilt.

 

“It’s fine, Az.  Don’t worry about it.”

You’re not sure what you expect Asriel to do next- but the last thing you anticipate is an outburst.

“Stop treating your SOUL like it isn’t important, Frisk.  I…  I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not normal.  You can’t just pretend everything is okay.  Look at me.”

He plants a hand under your chin and turns your head to face him directly.  Though the fur on his cheeks is damp with tears, his expression is stern, brows knit together.

“I was complacent once.  I let someone tell me everything was okay and I believed them.  Frisk, I…  I lost Chara because I didn’t act.  I’m not gonna lose you, too.”

A pause.  Tension saturates the morning air as the two of you sit on the bed, wordlessly staring each other down.

“I’m telling Mom.  Frisk, this is for your own good.”

You try to grab his arm, to stop him as he bolts across the room.  You miss.  You push both of your hands to your SOUL, trying to get it back into your chest before she sees it- to no avail.  Asriel’s residual magic keeps it levitating in front of your chest, bobbing up and down as always.  He’s next to Toriel now, one hand on her shoulder, gently trying to wake her, claws digging into the silky purple fabric of her robes.  Oh no.  Her eyes open slowly, bleary gaze fixed on Asriel.  She yawns and rises, back to her bed’s headboard. 

“What is it, child?  Is something wrong?”

 

Wordlessly Asriel points to you.  She follows her son’s gesture…  And her eyes lock onto your exposed SOUL.  Her bed’s sheets fly to the ground as she bounds towards you, padded feet gently thumping against the carpet.  Her eyes are wide with worry, and her fangs dig into her lip as she nervously surveys you.  Toriel’s hands tremble as they cup around your SOUL. 

“My child…  What has happened to you?” 

Seeing her so scared for you fills you with immense, crushing guilt.  She’s far too nice a woman to deserve such a worrying child.  You repeat your nonchalant shrug, avoiding looking at your tainted essence. 

“Do not worry, Frisk.  I will fix this.”  She rises to standing, her immense presence causing you to shrink back instinctually.  Seven feet of determined monster will do that to a person.  You watch as a green ethereal glow swirls in her palms.  She smiles warmly as she brings her hands back to your SOUL, careful not to touch it as she bathes it in healing magic…

 

The pain intensifies, a bolt of searing agony shooting through your chest as your vision goes dark at the edges.  You clench your teeth and lurch backwards, as you bash your head against white drywall.  The throbbing pain in your skull is nothing compared to the raw horror that is your SOUL.  You, Asriel, and Toriel stare on in mutual dumbfoundedness as the splotches on it spread like some sort of magical cancer.  In a matter of seconds, its cherry red is completely replaced by a familiar, pearly white.  The pain subsides. 

Bile rises in your throat.  What does this mean?  

Your mother’s hands dart to her mouth, her eyes go wide with horror.  She did this to you.  She hurt her child. 

“Frisk, I am so sorry.  I did not mean to harm you.  I promise, I would never -“

You pull yourself away from the wall, back to standing.

“I’m fine, Mom.” 

For once on this infernal morning, you’re not lying.  Shock of your SOUL’s colour-change aside, you’re in no pain. 

“Frisk, I…  We should take you to see a doctor.  A monster doctor, I know that humans do not work with such maladies.  I do not know what is happening to you, but I do not believe that it bodes well.”

She’s wringing her hands now, pacing to and fro and lost in a world of motherly concern.

A soft _ping_ fills the room as the shape of your SOUL inverts, point of the heart facing upwards.  A familiar sight…

That’s when it hits you.

 

 

_You’re staring at a monster’s SOUL._


	3. But You Refused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SOUL pulsing in the shadow of death, you stood defiant, and built yourself anew.  
> On to the next obstacle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're at 11 comments and 61 kudos. Golly, that's pretty unexpected.  
> This chapter is kinda all over the place, but, well... I can't think of a way to turn seven hours on the road into anything resembling an interesting plot.

That night.

 

 

Through a combination of luck and guile, you managed to convince your family that while your situation was unusual, it was not inherently dangerous.  Sure, they were still hellbent on dragging you off to meet with Doctor Alphys, but your mother finally relented- you would not return to the kingdom until after the summit in Oregon. 

After all, it would be horribly embarrassing if the ambassador of monsters didn’t show up for the annual summit on human-monster relations.  That might imply that your country wasn’t taking diplomacy with the humans seriously…  A dangerous faux pas. 

Dusty countryside gave way to stark grey mountain passes coated in layers of pine forest.  The air grew more and more saturated with water with every mile as your family drew closer and closer to the American coast. 

Now.

 

An irritating lightheadedness keeps you woozy and unfocused, but you still run over the notes in your mind: 

The United Nations is considering passing an act that could garner protection under the law for monsters.  In all honesty, it’s far from ideal, and does little more than pay lip-service to monster equality.  There’s no real guarantee for enforcement, and nothing short of outright genocide will be likely to pull the UN out of its habitual complacency. 

Humanity is overwhelmingly apathetic when it comes to monster rights, really.  Hate groups flourish in the shadow of uncaring law enforcement agencies that care far more for humans than the “beasts from under the mountain.”  Monsters are regularly denied the employment, housing, and healthcare that humans take for granted, and nobody seems to give a shit. 

When you took on the role of ambassador, you expected resistance and outright cruelty, sure- but you did not expect fucking _apathy_ to become your primary enemy in the push for equality. 

 

You suppose that the humans are apathetic because they have issues of their own to deal with.  War, famine, and disease ravage the world as they always have, and economic collapse looms on the horizon.  The concerns of a million or so anomalous beings from under a mountain just don’t measure up to the issues facing seven billion humans.  That’s understandable. 

A wave of nausea passes through you and you’re begging for Asgore to PLEASE GOD PULL OVER.  Rubber screeches against asphalt and the car’s sitting parallel to an impressive copse of old pine trees, gnarled wood standing strong against the years.

You mumble something about car sickness as you fling the car door open and stumble outside, gulping down cold, fresh air.  Your skin feels clammy, and sweat shines on your brow.  A chill passes through you as you dry-heave. 

It seems that you’ve come down with some sort of illness.  Delightful timing, Frisk Dreemurr.  Simply impeccable.

 

Your throat clenches and unclenches once more, and the taste of hot bile fills your mouth.  Ugh.  You spit out a few globs of a mysterious thick, black fluid that tastes coppery and bitter.  Your nausea passes and you stagger back into the car, slamming the door shut behind you.   

Toriel remains slumped up against the window, snoring softly.  Asriel regards you with concern in his eyes.  You wave him off with a dismissive grunt, muttering your old excuse of “car sickness.”  The look on his face makes it evident that he’s detecting your lie, but he doesn’t pry further.  “All better?”  When you confirm that yes; you’re fine, Asgore’s slams a paw down on the gas and the car’s cruising down the road once more.

You find it increasingly difficult to concentrate on diplomatic concerns with the odd chills running through your body.  Asriel eyes you warily as you slump against the car door with a sigh.

“Are you alright, Frisk?  You’ve been acting kinda weird.  That and, y’know.”

He mouths the word _‘magic’_ as if it’s some great conspiracy.  Considering the fact that three quarters of the people in the vehicle are composed of somewhere around 90% magic, that’s honestly kind of ironic.  You stifle a laugh and answer that you’re fine and this totally has nothing to do with the SOUL-changing-colours incident from this morning.  Definitely.

He raises an eyebrow and reminds you that if it weren’t for the summit he’d be dragging you off to meet with Doctor Alphys “right this instant.”

Though she is one of your closer friends, you still dread the inevitable checkup with the former royal scientist.    It’s not that she’s terrible company or anything!  It’s just that she has a way of panicking over every little problem in her path and giving a headache to all parties involved.  Alternatively, she’ll treat this development as the next “great leap forward in SOUL science” or something to that effect and won’t let you out of her sight for weeks.  You repress a shudder at that thought. 

 

The blue and black hues of night fall upon the boreal forest as your family inches ever closer to Oregon’s rocky coast.  You drift off to sleep with the smell of pine in your nose and the smooth bass of your father’s humming in your ear.   Cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, you slumber.

Despite everything, you’re okay.

 

Later.

\---------------------------------------

 

 

Asgore hums cheerfully to himself as he pulls into the hotel’s parking lot.  The air is filled with the noise of crickets and the salty scent of seawater.  The moon casts a baleful light upon the city, long, subtle shadows flowing into the gentle blues of the concrete jungle.  Every now and again, a streetlight illuminates the night, a burst of bright chemical orange amid the ocean of darkness.  For a place so full of humans, it is…  Peaceful.  He taps lightly on his wife’s shoulder with one massive, clawed finger.  “Dearest.  We have arrived.”  His voice rumbles deep in his chest and spills outward like honey, coating everything in its deep, sombre tones.

 Then, she is awake.  Her horns glisten like his in the moonlight, milky white in the darkness, and her eyes shine a brilliant ruby red.   Despite her incredible height of seven feet, she moves with an easy grace as she pulls herself out of the vehicle, calloused paws pressing against cold, unforgiving concrete.  Even in such mundane circumstances, Asgore feels himself at a loss for words. 

How could he express with mere language the raw, fiery beauty he sees in her simplest motion, in every contraction of her muscles, in every syllable that she speaks?  Any words that he might muster to pin down her beauty are simply entangled in his great golden beard, blown to silence by stark reality.

In other words, he’s hopelessly smitten. 

 

In the mysterious manner of long-married couples, the two silently agree not to wake their sleeping children.  Asgore effortlessly hoists his son with one arm, dull claws digging into the teen’s purple striped sweater as he slings the boy over his shoulder.  Toriel picks you up far more carefully, though the end result is quite the same.  With children in tow, the couple locks their vehicle and heads through the automated glass door, into the hotel lobby.

 

The serenity of the late night is struck down quite quickly.

 

The four of you enter easily enough.  The woman at the reception desk puts on a cheery façade that practically screams ‘give me money look how nice I’m being to you monsters,’ and the only other person in the room is far too busy reading a fashion magazine to pay your little procession any mind.  She sits by the electric fireplace on a leather sofa the colour of burnt orange, legs crossed and glossy-covered magazine opened to its middle. You awake with your gut pressed into Toriel’s shoulder.  You whimper quietly and she quickly lets you down.  Being slung over your mother’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes is as humiliating as it is uncomfortable, honestly.  You try to look nonchalant as you blink the sleep out of your eyes and survey your surroundings.

The hotel’s walls are covered in beautifully-finished cherrywood panels, and the floor beneath you is taken up by grey carpet with brightly-coloured, geometric designs plastered all over.  To either side of the granite reception desk is a long hallway.  Faint echoes occasionally ring down them and into the lobby, even at this odd hour. 

But it is not the soothing ambience of the well-maintained hotel that awakens you. 

 

No, it is something far more powerful than the mundane material world, something far greater than anything that human scientists ever understood.

I’m talking, of course, about the strength of your very SOUL. 

You did not think you were above the consequences of your SOUL shifting, did you?   

 

 

Darker, yet darker, reality goes grey at the edges, and you sink to your knees with a silent cry on your lips.  Numbness begins at your fingertips and the tips of your toes and arcs inwards, eating away at all sensation, at touch, at sound, at your grip on the world.  You feel your last heartbeats in your chest, the heavy pulse of each contraction of the rotting muscle heavier and heavier.  You get the vaguest impression of voices, of someone calling your name, but it is all for naught.  Darker, yet darker, your lungs wring out the oxygen of one last breath as your diaphragm goes limp.  Your fingers claw at the carpet as the muscles in your arms strain one last time…  And then go still.  One arm darts out to catch you as you fall forward, an automatic response.

The impact of hand-on-carpet shatters your brittle bones instantly.  You feel no pain.  Only the vaguest impression of loss, of disjointedness remains in your arms.  Your legs give out- and flat on your chest, face mashing against low-pile grey carpet, you feel something bubbling up from within your chest, slowly at first, but in a rising torrent.  Dark, rancid fluid leaks from your still-open mouth as the world fades to black around you, SOUL pounding desperately as it rips your body apart.

 

 

And out of the darkness, you ‘see’ them.  Three pale-white SOULs dance around you in beautiful, agonizing harmony, shifting about and giving off binary flashes in a language that you do not speak but regardless understand.  In the distance, two more SOULs bob about in docile confusion, dull and disjointed in their movements.  With no eyes to see, with no ears to hear, the world opens up around you, the colours of each and every essence unfolding like flowers in bloom, a rainbow of SOUL-power blossoming around you as your understanding pulls into infinity.  Your consciousness stretches like taffy, growing thin and taut, thoughts coming slower and slower.  And then?

Impossible, loving warmth fills every crevice of the void, and your mind folds upon itself once more.  The impossible pirouettes of the thousands of human SOULs around you are matched only by the solemn ballet of the three monsters, frantic yet precise. 

A flash of red bounces through the void, coming for your very SOUL, and you feel whole once more. 

The void, too, fades to darkness, but you are not afraid.  Safe and warm, your SOUL glows bright in the dark, an ever-burning beacon.  You feel an electric, concussive pulse in your very core, and your place in reality is cemented.

 

 

 

On that night, ambassador, you refused to die.


	4. Music by Cavelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many questions, so few answers. 
> 
> Or: Chara tries way too hard to be creepy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 80 KUDOS HYPE.  
> 14 COMMENTS HYPE.  
> 1000+ VIEWS HYPE.  
> ALL THIS HYPE.
> 
> Oh and I usually update on Sundays. Take that for what you will.
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH I DON'T DESERVE THIS AGH.  
> Here's a kind-of-longer-ish chapter because of the HYPE.  
> And yes, I totally named it after a Blockhead album.

_You come-to with the honeylike scent of golden flowers filling your senses._

_Golden.  Flowers._

_Your eyes fly open as you begin hyperventilating.  That shaft of light coursing from the heavens, the flowerbed you lie upon…  You survey your own form.  You’re a pudgier, closer to the ground, and clad in that hideous purple-and-blue sweater that you packed away years ago._

_Another reset, then.  You fight back the panic swelling in your chest as you sweep your eyes from side-to-side…  And see THEM._

_The child from your dreams and nightmares, the constant voice in the back of your head when you were underground, always offering advice, jokes, encouragement…  Ruby-red eyes glint in the morning sun, matched in luminescence by the snow-white of their wide grin.  Their brown-bobbed hair matches your own, and their ghostly pallor is uniform save for the circles of dusted-on blush on their cheeks._

_Before you stands Chara, lost hope of monsterkind._

_Which means this is a dream.  You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding and raise a hand to greet them tentatively. Their grin only widens in response._

_And then they speak._

_“Greetings, Frisk.  I apologize for startling you.  You always WERE a child at heart, were you not?”_

_They laugh at their own joke- it is chilly and calculated, a quiet and curt guffaw more than any warm, true laughter.  As cold as Chara, really._

_“Humour aside, I have…  My reasons for contacting you.  Purely professional matters, you see.  I will keep our time here to a minimum.”_

_You attempt to speak, but they fly towards you and raise a bony, narrow finger to your face.  Its touch is cold and numbing on your lips.  “Now, now, Frisk.  We both know that I control this place.  Do not make this any harder for me.  Your tryst with that damnable dead mage was tiring enough.  Before you ask- no, that was not a dream, and yes, you are in possession of a monster’s SOUL, now.  This draws us to the heart of the matter.”_

_They cross their legs and settle themselves among the bed of flowers, wide grin softening into a warm smile.   They pat the ground next to them in a clear invitation.  You sit beside them.  This close, you can smell the faint scent of dust wafting off of their sweater._

_“You gave my brother the happy ending he so dearly deserved.  You gave M-, ah, Toriel and Asgore a reason to live.  But do not think for a moment that I am here because I care for YOU, human.”_

_Their cheerful expression twists momentarily into a sneer, and you swear for a moment that you can see fangs in their mouth.  Then, they are cheerful and docile once more.  Deceptive little devil, aren’t they?_

_“No, I choose to act only because Asriel’s happy ending is in jeopardy.  Your life, and by extension the future of monsterkind, hangs in the balance.  If things go as I fear, then there will be no more LOADs, no more RESETs.  Not even a barrier.  Frisk, if you do not act carefully, monsters might very well go extinct.  Toriel, Asgore, Asriel…  Everyone.  Dead.  Do I make myself clear?”_

_You nod, fear clenching in your chest._

_“Good.  You understand what is at stake.  It took us hundreds of tries to get everything right in the underground, did it not?  We threw away hundreds of ‘happy endings’ in the search for something better.  We won our prize with the raw strength of our combined DETERMINATION.  Now?  Now you have only one try.  Only two endings remain, dear ambassador.  You win, or you die.”_

_They stand and offer you their hand.  You nervously accept it, and they’re pulling you behind them, deeper into the ruins._

_“Let us go for a walk.  It will help you think.”_

_With a genuine smile on their face, they lead you through hallways bound in violet stone, ancient masonry dusty and chipped and wrapped in vines.  Not a single monster is visible._

_“The outcome hinges upon several events- the first is the conference you are attending in two days.  I will do my best to guide you through your trials.  Now.  I believe it is time that we spoke of a far more interesting development.”_

_A greying, decayed wooden door materializes out of thin air and Chara opens it with a grand sweep of their arm.   You walk through it with the child close behind you._

_The two of you enter a children’s bedroom with a pair of parallel beds, a tall oak dresser between them.  Chara’s old home.  The burgundy carpet has a delightfully high pile that tickles at your ankles.   You sit on the side of one of the beds, and Chara takes the other side of the room.  Both of you sink into the warm, dusty quilts of the abandoned living-space.  You prop your head up on one hand as they continue their speech._

_“I am sure that you remember losing agency of your body, your organs grinding to a halt and your muscles going limp.  Perhaps you believe it all to be a particularly vivid dream…  It is with great pleasure that I inform you, Frisk Dreemurr, that you are for all intents and purposes dead.”_

_A beat.  Silence._

_“Ah, you think I am joking.  How naïve.  Perhaps I should explain.  Your body, or, ugh, what is left of it, is rapidly putrefying in a hospital somewhere upstate.  You will never see it again.  That…  Is for the best.”_

**_“What killed me?”_ **

_“The SOUL of a monster is…  Not terribly adept at keeping a nonmagical being alive.  Your overly-physical form was, apparently, far too much of a stress on your poor SOUL.  In a last-ditch effort to remain in one piece, your SOUL appears to have, ah, jettisoned your body’s ‘excess’ physical material.  With appropriately catastrophic results.”_

**_“So I’m dead.  Why didn’t I LOAD?”_ **

_“Ah!  No, you are not TRULY dead.  Your body was destroyed, but I used the last of your DETERMINATION to…  Generate a more suitable replacement.  That is all I can say on the subject.  As for your SAVE file- I am not entirely certain if you can reach it anymore.  Pity.”_

_Well, that raises more questions than it answers._

_“You are confused.  Understandable.  Quite a lot has changed in the last two days, so much beyond your comprehension.  That is fine.  You might come to accept things as they are, perhaps even revel in the changes.  Or- perhaps you will think of these days in contempt, and treat them as the end of a golden era.  I sincerely believe that you will do more of the former than the latter, but I cannot be sure.  You always were an unpredictable one.”_

_A manic grin splits their face once more._

_“Your happiness is irrelevant.  I have kept you alive only because you have proven yourself useful.  Do not believe that you have garnered favour with me.  It is through my graces alone that you hold a new mantle, and through my graces alone that you will live to see another day.  Today, six years after the fall of the barrier, it is my duty to bestow upon you the title of ‘royalty.’  Make good use of it.”_

_They draw a knife from under their sweater and leap to your side, defying gravity as they slide closer, closer, closer.  You can feel the cold steel of its blade biting into your neck as you struggle against Chara’s iron grip on your shoulder._

_“Now, my little monarch, arise and secure a new day.”_

With a quiet giggle, they pierce your tender flesh and reality goes white-

 

…

 

 

“Frisk, are you there?”

Asriel’s voice.  You’re alive, you’re okay.  Warmth floods your chest as you cough and open one eye.  You’re in what appears to be a bedroom, if the soft sheets encasing you are any indicator.  Warm, yellow light comes from something to your left, and Asriel’s voice from your right.  The ceiling is composed of some sort of unidentifiable white, smooth substance.  Perhaps plaster?  You don’t know, and you don’t particularly care, either.

“You, uh, you ARE Frisk, right?”

What an odd question.  You wince and attempt to shift your head to meet your brother’s voice.  It’s no use.  Your neck simply isn’t following orders right now.  With a quiet sigh of defeat, you engage your brother in conversation. 

“Az, what are you talking about?  Of course I’m me.  That question doesn’t make any sense.”

Your mouth is weirdly dry, and the gentle pulse of your heartbeat is not detectable.  Is this what it feels like to be a corpse?

“Tell me something only Frisk would know.”

Suspicion edges in his voice, as if you might be, what, an imposter?  You’re a bit insulted.  You wrack your mind for an answer- Ah!  There it is!

“Someone has to take care of these flowers.”

You hear a quiet gasp come from your side and feel warm, furry arms wrap around your midriff.  Tears dampen your cheek, and you’re not entirely sure if they’re yours or his. 

“F-Frisk.  It really is you.  I was so scared, Frisk.  I thought you were dead, I thought that you got sick, like…  Like Chara did.  I thought I lost you.”

He presses his muzzle into your shoulder and holds onto you tightly, claws digging through your sweater. 

“I thought I was gonna have to let go.”

Though your body reacts poorly to all attempts at moving, you manage to bring a hand to his arm.  You can feel the scratchy wool of Asriel’s own sweater.  The occasional white strand of fur pokes through, tickling your palm.  You smile weakly, though the muscles in your face feel wrong.  Everything feels…  Stretched, almost?  Concerning, but not the end of the world.  You’re alive, and your brother is here with you.

“I’m never going to let go, Az.  Okay?”

“P-promise, Frisk?”

“Promise.” 

 

A few minutes pass like that, the two of you sitting there in a wordless embrace.  Asriel is the first to break the silence. 

“Why did you do it, Frisk?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t act like that.  I know you’re not Chara…  Chara’s been gone for a long time.” 

If only he knew. 

“But…  Do you secretly hate humanity, too?” 

You feel his body tense up next to you, his grip tightening.

“If you really hate humans, I guess I can understand why.  They hurt you before you came to the underground, and they’re hurting all of us now.  Every time a human kills a monster, do you hate humanity a little more?  Every time a human treats us like we’re not people, do you get a little angrier?”

“Az, I-“

“You’ve been too good for us.  It’s okay to be angry sometimes.  You can’t just keep those emotions bottled up and make crazy decisions.  You can be mad at some humans, that’s fine, but don’t hate an entire species, Frisk.  You’re better than that.  You always were.”   

“Az, where’s this talk coming from?  If I hated humans, I wouldn’t be attending this conference every year.  If I hated humans, I wouldn’t be promoting the kingdom’s tourism industry.  I don’t hate anyone.”

“Then why?  Was it because you felt like you didn’t fit in?  Everyone loves you, Frisk.  You’re a hero!  Nobody cared that you were a human.” 

Uh, _were_?  That’s some odd wording.

“We just saw _you_ , Frisk, the person who shattered the barrier, the person who brought me back to life, the person who agreed to be our ambassador.  You’ve always fit in with monsters.  So why’d you do it?  Was it because you wanted to do magic like Mom and Dad?  Or was it because you thought it would make us happy?” 

“Asriel.  I’ll say it again: I have literally no idea of what you’re talking about.  I just remember keeling over in the hotel lobby and waking up here.  What did I do that’s so important?  Besides the, uh, almost dying.”

 

“You mean you don’t know what happened?  You didn’t plan any of this?  Are you SURE?”

“Any of what, Az?  You’re not making a whole lot of sense.”

“Golly, Frisk.  I, haha, I thought you were fooling around with me.  If you actually don’t know what’s going on, that’s…  I mean on one hand it makes me worry a lot less, on the other hand, it makes me worry a whole lot more.  Depending on how I look at it.  Uh.  Alright, what’s the best way to tell you what happened?”

“Az, just tell me straight-up. I’m used to things going wrong.  Everyone I love has tried to kill me at least once, and I bounced back from that pretty well, right?”

“Mom never tried to kill you.”

“Okay, yeah, she just threw a few fireballs.  Fine.  _Almost_ everyone I love.  Is that better?”

“I guess so.  Alright, so you want me to just be honest about this whole thing?”

“That would be preferable, yes.”  The muscles in your face ache, God, they hurt so much, but you still find the strength to roll your eyes at your brother.  Why’s he being so weird?

“Okay, okay.  So.  You, uh…  Here, let me just show you.  I know you can’t really move too well so I’ll go grab a mirror.  Uh.  Be right back.”

Asriel dashes off to who-knows-where, the gentle patter of his paws on the carpet the only signal of his departure.

_‘Please remember to stay calm, Frisk.’_

**_‘What’s that supposed to mean?’_ **

_‘Nothing, nothing.  Here he comes.’_

A soft pitter-patter announces Asriel’s return, sure enough. 

“Alright, Frisk, I’m going to prop you up.”

He’s at your side now, and he reaches around your body to raise a pillow behind you and fluff it up ever-so-slightly.

You feel a set of clawed hands grab your shoulders ever-so-softly and pull you up- from lying down to sitting, back against the makeshift cushioning of your bed’s headboard.  The motion forces an involuntary groan from you, though it causes no serious pain.  In fact, you can swear that the parts that Asriel touches feel a little _less_ sore, somehow.  Well, it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It IS nice to finally be able to see your brother.  From your current position, you can make out every nervous twitch and awkward fumble he makes as he regards you.  He was never the calmest monster around, but at this point he’s acting more like Alphys than his usual self. 

He repetitively passes one claw through the small tuft of white fur that makes up his “beard” while looking at everything BUT you.  A faint blush is visible through his fur.  It’d be adorable if it weren’t for the fact that his nervousness is directly correlated with your ‘condition.’

“It’s alright, Az.  I’m sure that it can’t be THAT bad, right?”

You manage a small, reassuring smile to accompany the statement, although a part of you is _absolutely certain_ that yes, it can be that bad.

You watch as Asriel holds up a chintzy handheld mirror with a handle practically coated in rhinestones.  Wonder where he managed to find that?

“Okay, uh, here you are.  Literally.  H-haha.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting, really.  Based on the sensations shooting through your body every time you try to move, you would’ve gone with “horrific disfigurement,” maybe, or at least “seriously wounded.”

Instead, you see a completely foreign face in the cloudy looking-glass.  A face belonging to a monster you’ve certainly never met before.  It bears a striking resemblance to the members of your family- definitely another caprine boss-monster.  But you’ve never met-

Expectations war with reality for a moment and you realise with a sudden tightness in your chest just who that monster is.

 

 

Despite everything, it’s still you.

 


	5. Do You Believe in Magic?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you do.  
> But you didn't expect this at all.  
> \---
> 
> I did a quick little mockup of a scene from Chapter 4, by the way.  
> [imgur link](http://i.imgur.com/djyFOXw.png)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, the music IS groovy.  
> \---
> 
>  
> 
> "Why did you release this chapter four days late?" I hear you cry. 
> 
> I wrote and re-wrote chapter 5 like three times because I was unsatisfied with it.  
> ___  
> "Why is Frisk so okay with all of this?" I hear you cry.
> 
> It takes a special kind of human to start calling a giant goat-person "Mom" within minutes of meeting her. That's all I need to say.
> 
> ___  
> "Why does this have 130 kudos?"
> 
> That's a question neither of us can answer, bucko. But thanks, everyone!  
> Seriously. Thank you. I did not at all anticipate this level of support for a semi-incestuous plot-driven slowburn about a human-turned goat monster and, uh, another goat monster.  
> That is a sentence I never anticipated writing. Undertale changes people.

The first thing you hear is Chara’s high-pitched, keening giggle gliding through your shell-shocked brain, bouncing around in your skull.  It’s so loud that you can barely think about your predicament.  Poor thing. 

_‘I…  Hahaha, oh, Frisk, I cannot believe that I pulled it off so well!  You- heh, God, I did not doubt my abilities, but this is…  Give me a moment, I am losing my composure.’_

You look at the mirror more intently, determined to take stock of your new appearance.   Most would be panicking in your position, but you’re made of tougher stuff than that.  You’re a soft-hearted pacifist, sure, but you’re strong when it counts. 

It’s not like you’re unsurprised or apathetic, but you simply cannot afford to be irrational in your position.  Sure, you look different, hell, you’re a different SPECIES now, but you’re still you.  You still have Chara, and Asriel, and your mother and father, and all your friends from the underground. 

This is going to make for a very strange press release, though, won’t it?  You can imagine the headlines now:

**“Monster Ambassador Renounces Own Humanity!”**

**“Is ‘Monstrosity’ Contagious?”**

Ugh.  This is going to be a media nightmare and you have a conference to attend in two days. 

 

 

Oh, but your reflection!  You need to see what kind of body you’re working with, after all. 

First, your face.  You’re still the proud owner of two eyes, a mouth, a pair of ears, and a nose.  All the basics you’re used to.  The only issue is the details of those assets.  Two eyes, sure, but they’re quite a bit larger than they used to be, and the brown of your irises is much lighter than their usual chocolate shade.  So light that they could be described as amber.  Another pair of gemstone eyes for the family, then. 

A small smirk tugs at your muzzle (YOUR MUZZLE!) at the thought.  Mom with her rubies, Dad with his sapphires, Azzy with his emeralds, and now you with amber.  Interesting change in colour aside, the structure of your eyes has shifted dramatically.  Your formerly-circular pupils are now slightly oblong, shaped like blunt, vertically-slit ovals.  Your irises take up far more of your eyes than they would on any human, the whites of your eyes only visible if you strain your gaze to the side.  The entire composition strikes you as uncomfortably-animalistic.  It felt normal on your family members, but on you it just looks…  Wrong.   

The thought of adjusting to a new body fills you with TREPIDATION. 

 

Alright, you’ve spent enough time keeping eye-contact with your own reflection.  Next development.  Your mouth.  Muzzle?  It feels a lot roomier than your old palette.

_‘Plenty of room for snails, huh, Frisky?’_

**_‘Shut up.’_ **

Your brand-new fangs are about as large as an adult human’s pinkie, and are visible even when you close your mouth, peeking over the edge of your blackened, rubbery “lips” (if they can at all be compared to those adorning a human’s face).  You open your maw and are greeted with an intimidatingly predatory mouthful of razor-sharp teeth.  Creepy.  You quickly snap it shut and pierce your lip with your fangs.  The tiniest rivulet of dust runs into your mouth as a result.  It tastes HORRIBLE.

You sputter and cough a bit, trying to get the foul, bitter grey powder away from your mouth as fast as humanly possible.  Monstrously…  Possible?  Whatever.  You swear you can hear Asriel snicker at your lovely escapade with the taste of your own dust.  The mirror shudders slightly as he fights back outright laughter at your clumsiness.  You shoot him a withering glare and continue on your noble quest for self-discovery.   

Okay.  Eyes- check.  Mouth- check.  Your ears!  They’re about as foreign to you as your new muzzle.  Large, round, floppy, and covered in the same thick white fur as the rest of you, they hang down from near the top of your head to the beginning of your neck.  You are surprised that you can hear so well through them, given that the actual…  Hearing-bits(?) are completely obscured.  Despite the new pair’s unfamiliar appearance, you suppose that having a set of ordinary human ears on your head would look incredibly stupid.  Given the, ah, fur and muzzle. 

 

Next.  Your…  Oh, your horns!  You haven’t looked too closely at those, yet.  They’re…

Honestly, they’re kind of pathetic.   They can’t be longer than an inch, and their ends are incredibly blunted.  

**_‘You turn me into a boss monster and you skimp on the horns?  C’mon, Chara.  I want to look cool like Dad!”_ **

_‘It would not have looked right.  You are far too small for large horns to make sense.  I simply catered to your childlike form.’_

**_‘What the hell do you mean?  I’m practically an adult!’_ **

_‘An adult scarcely taller than five feet.  Child-LIKE, not a child.’_

You grumble internally at Chara’s usual snarky attitude and cast your eyes toward Asriel.  He looks somewhat relieved at your measured response, though concern still creases his brow. 

“S-so, Frisk.  Golly, you’re taking this well.  Are you still shell-shocked?“

“Asriel.  Look at me.”

He turns his head to face you but makes it a point to avoid eye-contact.  Why must he make everything so difficult? 

“Az, of COURSE I’m a little surprised.  It’s just that, well, this isn’t that big of a development.”

“What.”

_‘What?’_

“I mean, yeah, this isn’t gonna be easy to explain to, uh, anyone, but _I_ haven’t changed.  The fur and everything will take some getting used to, sure, but who I am, under all that magic and fluff?  It’s still just me, Frisk.”

 

The instant those words leave your mouth, you’re filled with embarrassment.  You shamelessly stole that line from something Chara said six years ago.  They do not grace your mistake with any words, but they DO radiate a mixture of amusement and shame that makes heat rise to your cheeks. 

Asriel, being Asriel, fails to notice the vapidity of your statement, and looks at you with eyes open wide, filled with wonder.  For a split second, you can see a younger monster there, a child learning that he’ll be able to see his parents again- but your brother’s expression is so much more measured, face scrunched up with worry even in this brief moment of surprised happiness.  He always took on the weight of the world on his shoulders, as if he could be held responsible for every mishap, every mistake.  As if he still had the power to LOAD and RESET. 

_But those were the sins and responsibilities of someone who died quietly in a flowerbed long ago, after years of anguish, hatred, and boredom._

_Flowey the flower died, and Asriel Dreemurr was made anew._

 

 

Your brother pounces on top of the bed and wraps you in a great, warm hug that sends sparks of _something_ worming down through your fur, relieving the ache of your muscles wherever it touches.  It’s a strange sensation, an electric tingle that reinvigorates despite not feeling foreign at all.  As the sensations worm their way to your core, they grow more and more subtle- not fading out, but fading _into_ your very SOUL, a delicate weave of pulsing sensations that flow through every part of your body, pure and vibrant and peaceful.  The smell of fresh-baked butterscotch pie, the colour of a bright red SOUL glowing defiant in the darkness, the softness of a warm bed that’s been used by generations of wayward humans, each lost to the shadows, each unique and beautiful and irreplaceable and nameless- these are the things that Asriel’s touch brings to your mind, a barrage of beauty and ideas.  They are your own, but somehow made stronger by the introduction of magic.

You feel more awake than you’ve felt in your entire life.  The world sings around you, and you look at Asriel with wonder in your eyes.

_‘Do not be so surprised, Frisk.  Do you remember that old library book?  “Humans will never know the joy of expressing themselves through magic.”  Now that you are a monster, magic is no longer a series of bullets to be avoided.’_

**_‘Since when were you an expert on this kind of thing?  I thought you were more of a math-and-science type.’_ **

_‘Do you really think that Azzy got through all of that “magical theory” work on his own?  I usually did it for him.’_

**_‘So you’re an expert because you helped a little kid with his homework.’_ **

_‘Harsh, but true.  Regardless, you should try to enjoy this, Frisk.  Your first true experiences with magic!’_

**_‘I “experienced” plenty of it underground, Chara. ‘_ **

****

They sigh dramatically and do not respond.  You refocus your attention back on Asriel.  He has an amused, confident smirk that would look at home on Mettaton.  It’s quite disconcerting. 

“Knew it.”

“Uh…  Knew what?”

“Remember when you scraped your knee and I tried to use healing magic on you for the first time?  We were twelve, thirteen years old, I think?”

“Thank you for that.”

He laughs quietly and his expression softens into a warm, genuine smile.  His eyelids droop slightly as he reminisces. 

“We were running around in that meadow, playing tag or something.  The sun was setting, golly, it was just as amazing then as it was the day we all saw sunlight for the first time, and the castle’s shadow made the whole clearing nice and cool.  Do you remember that?”

“I do.”

“I remember looking up at the castle and being amazed that we, y’know, LIVED there.  It was so much bigger than the one back in New Home.  I guess building things without a cave ceiling over your head gives you more freedom, right?”

“I suppose it does.”

“Anyways, we were both pretty exhausted, and we started walking back home.  You tripped on a stone and fell into the rocky soil.  I helped you up, and you were trying to calm me down because I was panicking about your knee.”

You giggle at the strange situation.

“I had lived with you for a few years, but all I really knew about blood was that it was supposed to stay inside of humans.  I thought that you might die because of your hurt knee, because humans were just super delicate.”

His expression darkens for a moment, and he mumbles quietly to himself.  Something about flowers.  He notices your expectant gaze and continues. 

“I was bawling by the time we got back to the castle.  They had just finished building it, I think.  You could still smell the wet paint in some of the rooms.  We went together into the throne-room, and Dad saw the look on my face.  Do you remember how much he freaked out?”

You grin widely and nod. 

“Yeah, he ran over to you and started checking every bit of your body.  He was trying to figure out how you had gotten hurt, didn’t even consider that I was crying because you were bleeding a bit from your knee.  It took you at least five minutes to calm him down.  After that, Mom came in…  I forget why, I don’t think it had anything to do with us.”

Your muscles ache a little, but you’re still capable of a shrug.

“Everyone told her what had happened, and she was quiet for a while.  Then she told me that your knee could be a ‘learning experience.’  I had been studying green magic for a few months, and she really wanted me to try it on someone who actually needed it.  I was so scared that I was gonna do something wrong, use fire magic instead of healing magic, maybe make your injuries worse.”

 

“But you didn’t.”

His smile turns into a wide grin.

“That’s right!  I healed your knee, but you didn’t react how I had been expecting.”

“I…  I said thank you.  Did I do something wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“How much do you know about healing magic?”

“It’s green and it makes things hurt less.”

Asriel rolls his eyes at your probably-inadequate description.

“While that’s not WRONG, there’s much more to it than that.”

_‘Ready for his lecture?  I taught him about half of this.  He never read the textbook.”_

“Well, you understand the basic appearance and utility of healing magic.  Not that I really expected anything else, since you did kinda journey through the entire underground.  Alone.  Alright, Frisk, so what’s important to note about healing magic is that it affects monsters much more than it affects humans.”

“You mean it’s better at healing them?”

“It does much more to monsters than heal.  You know that magic is a form of communication, yes?”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes in exasperation.  
“Same as speech, writing, or drawing, yeah.  I’m not _that_ oblivious.”

Asriel’s shit-eating grin shrinks, and you don’t think it has anything to do with what you’ve just said.  He’s also…  Blushing?

“Right.  So, healing magic is kind of, uh…  Intimate.  N-not like it’s sexual or anything!  At least, uh, n-not always!”

You raise an eyebrow at that.  Healing magic is _sexual?_ You didn’t think it was possible, but your deadpan expression sparks even more awkwardness. 

“Golly, Frisk, is it hot in here or is it just me?”

“That’s a terrible pickup line, Az.”

“H-haha.  Right.  So.  Healing magic.  It’s intimate because to perform it you have to.  Uh.  Look at the other person’s SOUL.” 

Wait, that’s it?  When you were underground, your SOUL was getting pulled out of your chest for the world to see during every fight.  It was never that big of a deal.

“A-and before you ask, it’s different with monsters.  Humans, their SOULs aren’t really part of the body, you know?  When a human dies, the SOUL can go off and do…  Other things.  But with monsters, your SOUL can only be seen by people you really trust.  It’s…  It’s a really big privilege to see a monster’s SOUL.”   
“So because a monster’s SOUL is hidden inside of them all the time, any direct magic targeted at it feels really, uh.  Good?”

He’s trembling. 

“Like, it can be good, like, ‘wow this blanket is so soft and warm,’ but it can also be the other kind of good.  You know.  THAT kind.  B-but only if the person casting it really means it that way, I think?  It’s kind of complicated.”

You briefly consider tormenting Asriel by asking him to delineate what exactly constitutes “that kind,” but you’re not the sadistic type.  He’s having a hard enough time explaining things as it is.

“Based on your expression when I was healing you, it probably f-felt nice, huh?  That’s, uh, that’s good.  That you felt.  Good.”

You give him a patient smile and remind him to keep going with his story.

 

“Oh, r-right, so you get that healing magic works differently with monsters.  Back when I healed you for the first time, I didn’t really get that.  I thought that since my healing magic worked, it might make you happy, too.  The first time I ever got healed by a spell, it felt really, REALLY good.  I’d never felt safer in my life.  I wanted you to feel that way, too.  After everything you had done, for everyone.” 

Oh, God, he’s getting sappy on you. 

“My feelings were really hurt when you just kind of shrugged it off.  I didn’t understand why I hadn’t made you feel good.  I thought that maybe I had messed up with my magic, or maybe you didn’t love me, or, well…  Maybe, the love I was feeling wasn’t real love.”

He shudders slightly, and it’s not from embarrassment anymore.  You grimace and lower your gaze.

“It took Mom a while to calm me down after that.  She took me out to the balcony and we had a really long talk about magic, and how humans just didn’t feel it the same way monsters did.  It was confusing, and it took her a long time to convince me, I think.  I couldn’t understand how humans could live without that in their lives.  I knew on some level that they couldn’t cast spells anymore, but I never really put the pieces together.  I hadn’t fully realised how much you guys were missing out on.”

 

 

His eyes are starting to well up now.  Crybaby.

“A-and I just want you to r-remember how that felt, okay?  Even when you find a way to be a human again, never forget how that magic felt.  I think it explains how I feel about you more than I could ever say with words.  You’re special, Frisk.  Don’t forget that.”

You, curiously enough, are not drawn to the sweetness of Asriel’s comment.    You run your mouth before your mind can process the words coming out.

“Why would I want to turn back?”

Asriel’s shocked expression quickly shifts into open-eyed, childlike joy.  The tears matting the fur on his cheeks soak into your neck as he holds you tight, claws digging into your back just hard enough to remind you that he’s there. 

Two warm, fur-covered bodies, one small, one tall, sit entangled upon the hotel bed.  Neither of them wants to let go.


	6. Not Over Yet- REUPLOADED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which Toriel and Asgore learn something important about Frisk's situation. 
> 
> 3 months with no update. Golly, I really fucked up.
> 
> Re-upped because AO3 bugged out and forgot to bump the story...  
> I misspelled "Uploaded." End me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We return from our too-long absence! I sincerely apologize for keeping you all waiting for THREE MONTHS. Entirely too long.  
> Now, there is some business that we must cover:  
> First: I have a tumblr now! No idea how to use the site, but I post things there and will try to answer questions as best as I can: http://orion-sez.tumblr.com/  
> Second: Feel free to ACT>INSPECT any item in the room! I'll provide a more detailed examination in the next chapter.  
> Third: A song that I feel suits this story. It's a little cheesy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CEQ640sHr8
> 
> If you have ANY questions at all, about the story or anything remotely related, please throw an ask my way. I have a Tumblr now, so post there.
> 
> ...  
> I sent my buddy this story. Quoth my friend:  
> "tbh nothing is hotter than getting your adopted brother's monster cock"
> 
> I don't know what to say about that.

Your warm moment with Asriel is not fated to last forever, but few things are.  Ever the conscientious one, you release your grip first, drawing yourself backwards with a sigh.  As nice as this **purely-platonic** hug is, there’s still a lot of questions that need answering.  For one: where are your parents?

Asriel shrugs.  “Oh.  Right.  I think they’re busy doing something with your body.” 

You tell him that you’re pretty sure your body is in the room, sitting with him.  He seesaws a hand in the air.  “Yeah, well, your old one isn’t.”

Your old one- you feel a sinking feeling in your gut. 

“Asriel.  What do they think happened?  What are they doing with that body?”

“U-uh, well, they’re taking it to some place called a “morgue.”  I don’t know what that means, exactly, but that doesn’t matter right now!  You’re alive!”

“That alone might be bad news, but…  How did they react to all of this?  And if my body died, where did _this_ come from?”  You motion awkwardly at your body, pausing for a moment to examine one of your new hands.  Apparently they have claws and only four fingers.  Neat, but kind of weird.

“It just appeared out of nowhere.  There was this big magical pulse in the room and then you were lying there, unconscious.  Why are you asking?”

You wince.  This does NOT sound good at all.

“Did they seem broken up about my ‘original body’ dying?”

“They were sort of- Oh, God, Frisk, do they think you’re dead?”

“Oh God is right, Az.  Oh God is absolutely right.” 

 

“What are we going to do?”

“Cell phone.  Call immediately.  My voice isn’t any different; that should be enough for them to give up on mourning me.  Hopefully.” 

While Asriel punches Toriel’s number into his cell phone, you let your thoughts drift.  You’re a monster now- by all appearances, a boss monster.  Are you able to use magic?  And what about aging- aren’t boss monsters only able to get older if their parents are alive or they have kids?  Asgore and Toriel are your parents, but you’re not related, so are you going to be a teenager forever? 

_There are worse fates, but I am not needlessly cruel.  You will reach adulthood._

**_Oh?  And what about dying?_ **

_Assuming that you are not murdered, you might find yourself living for a very, very long time._

**_How long?_ **

_That depends on whether or not you have children.  Stop worrying about it.  I have this aspect of your life under control._

**_Wait, does that mean…?_ **

_Congratulations on your conditional immortality.  You’re a boss monster; get used to the idea._

 

You blink a few times and try to clear the cobwebs from your mind.  Chara has been with you for years, but you still haven’t gotten used to your little mental ‘conversations.’

“-don’t think it works like that.  Mom, I swear, it’s them.  Frisk is alive.  Huh?  Yeah, they can talk with you right now.  No, no, they’re fine, honest!  Here, let me put them on.”

You outstretch your hand as he presses the phone into your pink, padded palm.  The sensation is odd, but not unpleasant.  You hold the warm plastic up to the furry exterior of your ear- surprisingly, you can hear Toriel’s voice perfectly. 

She’s sobbing.

“M-my child, are you there?  I did not dare to think it, but…  Are- are you alive?”

“Alive and well.”

You hear a choked gasp from the other end.  Sounds like she really thought you were gone for good.  You can hear Asgore shouting something in the background.  He sounds exuberant. 

“B-but your body was destroyed.  How are you speaking with me, how are you still alive?  This does not make any sense.” 

“Well, Asriel says that a little white monster appeared after I ‘died.’” 

Another gasp, this one disbelieving rather than relieved.  “You do not mean-”

“It’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

“Frisk, I…  My goodness.  You are not lying to this old woman, are you?  I suspected that you might still be alive somehow, since we could not find your SOUL, but I did not dare to raise my hopes.”

There’s an unsaid _‘I’ve lived through enough heartbreak in my lifetime’_ in there.  Ouch. 

“Of course not, Mom.  Listen, are you and Dad still at the morgue?”

“Yes, but it has not gone well.  The humans here have been saying that the body was never human to begin with- something about there being no bones or…  Dee-enay, was it called?”

_Looks like your new SOUL really did a number on that corpse, huh?_

 

“DNA.  It’s an acronym for what makes nonmagical beings biologically unique.  Kinda.  It’s complicated.  Anyway, it’s good to hear that they can’t ID the body as human.  I’m still alive, so, uh, I think it might cause some problems if the morgue declared that, you know, I wasn’t.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah.”             

“Alright, then, my child.  So, to summarize: you are well, though you are currently residing in the body of a monster?  I am not sure if I can believe the last part, but I am immeasurably glad that you survived.  If you hadn’t, I…  Goodness…”

“Don’t worry about it, everything’s alright.  Honest.”

“I suppose this is just another thing that I will learn not to question, along with Asriel’s resurrection and the destruction of the barrier.  You are a strange child, Frisk.”

“I do my best.  Love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Frisk.  And dear?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

She hangs up.  You’re not really sure what she’s thanking you for, but she’s taking things in relative stride.  That’s good, right?  You give the phone back to Asriel.

“So.  They don’t think I’m dead anymore!  That’s nice.”

“Wanna know what’s even nicer?”

Oh, no.

“Learning to walk again!”

 

You tilt your head at Asriel in confusion.  You never forgot how to walk, last you checked.  You’re still in full possession of all your old faculties, so there’s nothing to re-learn.  One foot in front of the other- how’s that hard?  You ask Asriel as such and he shoots you a confident smile.  He’s full of surprises today, isn’t he?

“Frisk, think about what’s different about you right now.  From when you were human, I mean.”

“Uh…  Fur, horns, magic, fangs, a new eye colour…”

“Lower.”

“I have claws, now, so that’s kind of cool.  And these paw-pad looking things on my hands that are kind of-  Oh.  Paws.”

“Yeah.  It’s okay though, Frisk!  I’m basically an expert on walking around on not-human legs, so it looks like _I’m_ gonna have to help _you_ , huh?  Golly, what a shame!  It looks like _somebody_ is gonna have to say the magic words.” 

Asriel looks at you hopefully.  Oh.  THOSE magic words.  Fuck’s sake, Az. 

“I…  Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Frisk, pleeeease?  Just this once?”

“Ugh.  Fine, fine.  Asriel Dreemurr, God of Hyperdeath, please take mercy on your lowly servant.”

Asriel smirks and extends a hand.  You’ve got some studying to do.

…

 

You kinda have a grasp on this ‘walking’ thing, which you think is pretty damn impressive.  It’s not just paws, the entire _structure_ of your legs is completely different, with joints in all the wrong places and stiff ‘bone’ (or whatever the magical equivalent is) in others.  You have to constantly remind yourself to relax the muscles in your sort-of-thighs-sort-of-not in order to balance your weight properly.  The entire experience is surreal, but you find yourself walking with Asriel’s careful guidance.  True to his word, your brother is an expert at walking around in a hotel room; he periodically spouts bits of advice about form and posture.

Unfortunately, you find that whenever your attention lapses, you lock your joints all wrong and go tumbling to the ground.  As a human, you were able to walk practically automatically, so this is all discouraging.

“Don’t worry, Frisk!  You just need practice!  You’re learning, uh, really quickly.  I think.”

“Compared to who?”

“I…  Don’t actually know anyone who’s gone through this.  But you’re still learning!  That’s good, Frisk.  Focus on today’s work, not tomorrow’s, right?”

Huh, daily reminder that when Asriel Dreemurr knows what he’s talking about, he _really_ knows what he’s talking about.

 

You hear the soft impacts of paws-on-carpet draw closer, outside the suite’s door.  It’s them.  It has to be.  You motion towards the door and sit down on one of the beds.  Asriel sits opposite you, and together you brace yourselves for the incoming wave of parental concern.  The door squeaks open almost-silently, a testament to its well-oiled hinges, and your parents step through the dull brown frame. 

You expect shouting, maybe a hug or a few words of encouragement.  Instead, you get a blank stare from both of them.  You shrink back slightly as they silently lumber into the room- Asgore keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, while Toriel can’t stop staring.  You clear your throat and wave. 

“H-hi guys.  Sorry for giving you that scare back there.  That wasn’t very nice of me, was it?”

It’s if your voice breaks some sort of paralysation spell.  You see a blur of white and gold: Asgore is upon you, crushing you in a massive bear-hug. 

“It’s alright, little one…  It’s alright…  You’re okay…  Gods, you’re okay…” 

The hug is a little painful because of how tightly Asgore is squeezing, but you endure for his sake.  The redness of his eyes speaks to hours spent exhausted or crying (likely both).  He’s probably been prematurely mourning your death.  You bury your face in the wiry hair of your father’s blonde beard and clutch at his shirt.  His familiar scent is slightly masked by the clinging odour of antiseptic, but you breathe it in all the same.  One of the many smells of home.

Asgore loosens his grip slightly.  “Your condition raises many questions, but things will be okay as long as you are alive.  We’ll have to talk about this more when the time comes, but…  I think your mother would like to see you.  Alright?”

Right, Toriel.  She sounded worried sick on the phone.  You should reassure her as soon as possible.  You let go of your father and turn to see her talking about something with Asriel (you catch the words “succession” and “royal image,” but that’s about it). 

“Come here, my child.”

 

That’s all the invitation you need.  You can only imagine how much suffering your poor mother has gone through because of your unusual situation.  When you come close, she catches you in a tight-but-short hug before catching you with a stern gaze.  A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, but she’s definitely trying to put on a face of cold authority.

“You could have at least told us before going through with this.  Leaving your parents in the dark will only serve to make things more difficult for all of us.  Your father was terrified.”

Wait, what?

“Please do not pretend that you do not know what is going on.  This change of species, however it was accomplished, has clearly been on your mind for quite a while.”

Oh.  She’s assuming THAT. 

“The humans have been quite critical of your most recent speeches, my child.  Did you think that I would not notice how often you accidentally referred to yourself as a monster?  This decision was one you made a long time ago, whether you recognize it or not.”

“Wait, when did I call myself a monster in those speeches?  The humans are just mad at me because I’m siding with the Kingdom instead of them.”

“’Humans are not so different from us.’  'We will cooperate with humanity to ensure a more prosperous future.'  'I think I can speak for all monsters when I say that we are excited to do business with SmithCorp.'  And so on.” 

Oh, right.  Oops.

“There is no need to apologize for matters of the heart.  There IS, however, a need to apologize for your brash behaviour.”

You consider telling her the truth, that this change was involuntary (though not unwelcome), but you think that might send her into panic mode.  She’d be worried sick about trying to turn you back or comfort you, and she’d almost certainly try to have a few choice words with the smoky apparition from that motel.  It’s probably best to let your parents assume what they will.  You’ve worried them enough for the day.

“Uh…  Sorry, Mom.  Sorry, Dad.  I guess I was just really excited and didn’t think things through.  I’ll, uh, try to think about you guys before making important choices.  Sorry.”

Toriel drops her thin veil of authority and breaks into a broad grin, while Asriel shoots you a questioning glance.

“I accept your apology, and I am sure that your father will as well.  Gorey?”

“Yes, Frisk.  It is alright.  Everyone makes mistakes.  As long as you are determined not to repeat them, I believe that they will help you to become a better person.  And besides, this should be a day of celebration!  I’ve been wanting to teach you magic for years, and I finally have the opportunity.  We can sit together, learning magic and eating butterscotch pie.  As a family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and boundless enthusiasm for my work. You’ve been good partners. 
> 
> Also this chapter was finished at 4 AM so there's a good chance its ending is garbage. Please tell me if anything about it seems more stupid than usual.


	7. Bridge to Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took me far too long to write what is essentially a bridging chapter. Nothing happens here besides planning, small-talk, and a lil' bit of texting from two cool skeletons.  
> Next chapter will have EVENTS happening in it, along with a healthy dose of fantastic racism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [RANT]  
> This isn't going to be a Sans-centric fic, for those of you who are worried about that. I know that he's the fandom darling, and there's not much I can write for him that hasn't been done before, anyways. Let me clear some air- Sans knows _about_ the resets in this fic, but he doesn't remember them. No, he doesn't get nightmares about that-one-time-Frisk-went-overboard-with-a-knife. I considered that, but just... Nah. It's been done by tons of people and I can't honestly say that I'm very fond of the "tortured soul" interpretation of Sans the skeleton. I get that he's most likely clinically depressed, but that doesn't really read as "endless, vocal angst" in my humble opinion. Have you seen him ingame? He's a pro at bottling up his emotions and misgivings. I don't mean to insult anyone who chooses to write him as an open guy, but I just don't see him that way.  
>  [END RANT]
> 
> You can check STUFF I MADE out at my [Tumblr](http://orion-sez.tumblr.com/), if hard-to-navigate social media sites are your thing.
> 
> This chapter was mostly written while listening to ["Contact!"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BARQ-HbgA0) It's a pretty good song. You should listen to it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always.

As a family.

 

_How much cheesier can you get?_

**_I thought it was sweet._ **

_You would.  Moron._

Regardless of Chara’s admonishments, you’re surrounded by family- loving, accepting, cheerful family.  That really ought to be enough for them, but you suppose that people like Chara will never be satisfied.    

You can see exhaustion pulling at your parents’ features, defiling even their hopeful, exuberant smiles.  It’s the morning, which means that they must have been awake all night at the morgue.  You’d feel guilty about that, but it’s not your fault that you had a close encounter with a dead human.  A wraith?  A lich?  You’re not really sure what you’d call the _thing_ that assaulted you in your dream.  Not that it really matters, the stupid… thing ended up helping you by accident.  You stifle a giggle at the thought.  Humans can be pretty dumb.

Asriel breaks you out of your reverie. 

“Earth to Frisk!  How come you haven’t said anything?” 

“Oh, uh, sorry, I was just thinking about the conference.  The one that’s tomorrow.  The one that involves me speaking in front of a crowd of humans.” 

“That is quite alright, little one.  They have not always been good to us, but I believe that you are the key to unlocking the compassion hidden inside of every human.  They will come to see us as their equals in time.”

_Listen to him go on.  ‘Humans are good,’ he says as they conspire to murder his family.  Pathetic.  You would probably make a better king than this old fool._

**_That’s treason._ **

_Who cares?_

 

“A-and anyway, Frisk, you’re great at dealing with people!  You made it past the entire royal guard by making friends with them; how hard can it be to deal with a couple of humans?” 

 “Humans are different, Az. Much more dangerous.  Much more willing to kill.  We can still befriend them, but I don’t think it’ll be easy.” 

“I- I guess?  Golly, Frisk, I don’t, uh…”

You shrug and give your brother the biggest smile that you can muster.  He really shouldn’t be worrying about this diplomatic nonsense.  That’s your job, your burden to bear.

“Don’t worry about it, Azzy.  It’s my job to think about humans.  You get to sit back and watch while I turn them to our side with my _charming_ personality.” 

Yeah right.  Everyone breaks out in laughter at your display of faux-narcissism, and you can feel the oppressive atmosphere of the room lifting.  Good, good.  You don’t want your family worrying about you or your job.  They’ve lost enough sleep today as-is. 

It’s time that you got to work.  The conference is tomorrow, and this transformation of yours is a major complicating factor.  How do you get the humans to believe that it’s really you?  How do you assuage their fears?  Even if they believe you, will they think that you were forced into your form by the monsters, maybe even brainwashed?  It’ll be safer and easier to lie to them: ‘ _Why yes, I DID choose to become a monster!  How?  Well, that’s a state secret.’_ Alright, yes, good, good.  What will you say when they ask you why?  You’ll think on that later- you have something to do in the present.

“I kept you guys awake all night, huh?  Why don’t you two settle down for a rest while I handle a few last-minute details with the conference?”

More like re-planning half of the opening speech, but they don’t need to know that.

“My child, we just discovered that you are still alive.  Would it really be right for us to go to sleep?”

“I think so.  I mean, the conference is tomorrow!  I don’t want you guys to be falling asleep in front of the humans.  I just have a couple of errands to run, so I won’t be gone for that long.”

“They make a good point, Tori.”

Your mother sighs and kneads her forehead for a few seconds.

“I do not like this idea very much, but I suppose that you are correct.  I would like us to spend some time as a family, but that can wait until after the conference…  Asriel, Frisk: be good.  If anything seems dangerous or out-of-place, call us immediately.  I do not want anything to happen to the two of you.”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I can protect Frisk!  They’ll be fine!”

“I am sure they will be.  Just be careful.” 

Your parents slip off to the bathroom in order to change into pyjamas, which leaves you sitting alone with your brother.

 

“Golly, Frisk, this is a lot to take in.  You’re taking this really well, so that’s good.  I don’t really understand why you lied to Mom and Dad, but if you think it was a good idea…”

“There’s no point in them worrying about it.  You’re the one who knows about the resets and everything, so I thought it’d be best for you to know the truth.  I mean, it’s a pretty big deal that I can’t SAVE or LOAD anymore, isn’t it?”

“Wait, WHAT?  W-what happened to your determination?”

“All I know is that I’m not turning into a puddle right now.  That’s good enough for me.”

“But aren’t you worried about, you know…  Bad things happening?  If you can’t LOAD, then-”

“Then we’ll just have to be more careful.  I’m more worried about the humans than anything else.”

“I guess that make sense.  They’ve been really weird, haven’t they?”

You fight the urge to smile.  Asriel is amazing at euphemising even the worst of things.  This is almost as brilliant as ‘friendliness pellets.’

“If by weird you mean ‘anywhere from apathetic to genocidal,’ then yeah, they’ve been pretty weird.”

“I guess…?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.  Anyways, do you wanna tag along with me?  I wasn’t lying about the errands, you know.”

“What _kind_ of errands?”

“I need to get my suit refitted, call in a few personal favours, and talk to the humans who run the conference.  It’s not really exciting, but it’d be nice to have some company.” 

“Golly, Frisk, of course I’ll help you out!  What kind of big brother would I be if I didn’t?”

You decide to let him keep thinking that he’s the pillar of stability in this relationship. 

 

“I’m glad you’re coming along.  First off, I should probably do something to disguise myself.  Have anything I could use as a mask?”

“Why would you hide your face?”

“How many boss monsters are there in the world?”

“Um…  Mom, Dad, me, and now you.  That’s four.”

“And how do you think people would react if they saw a fourth, unrecognizable member of the royal family?”

“Oh.”

“I’d rather not create any conflict with the humans.  It’s best for us to keep a low profile.  As low-profile as’ the prince and his mysterious new friend’ can be, at least.”

“B-but won’t we have to tell them about all of this sooner or later?”

“I’d like to save that eventuality for the conference.”

He shrugs and starts digging through his luggage. 

_So obedient.  I wonder if he is capable of asserting his personality at all._

As usual, you ignore Chara’s biting commentary: you’d probably go mad if you actually spent time listening to them.  You elect instead to drag your suit from your luggage.  The jacket and trousers are both badly-wrinkled, and you think the buttons on the jacket might be coming loose.  It’s not that you own a bad suit!  The lavender ensemble is a little odd, but it’s all been carefully-tailored to fit your form- your _old_ form, anyways.  You have a sneaking suspicion that your fur might make the garment a bit uncomfortable.  That can be dealt with when you get the suit tailored.

You frown and set the two-piece garment aside.  Ordinarily, your family gets such work done by a small group of spider-monsters that still live under Mount Ebbot.  You’ll have to resort to the local “MTT Fashion Emporium.”  You don’t know what to expect from such a place, but you have an aching suspicion that it’ll be as tiring as any other MTT-brand establishment. 

You hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom down the hall.  Seriously, showering together?  Romantic weirdos.  Looks like you and Asriel have a few more minutes of alone time.  You find your ancient flip-phone lying atop your bed’s nightstand and quickly search through your messages.  While you were out, it looks like you’ve gotten more than a little attention.  Most of your messages are from Papyrus, a noisy, naïve skeleton monster who bears the dubious title of “mascot of monsterkind.”  You don’t know what exactly that entails, but you imagine that his boisterous personality is good for the job.

 

COOLSKELETON95 (9 hours ago): VERY EXCITED TO BE IN HUMAN AIR-CAR  
COOLSKELETON95 (9 hours ago): WITH SANS AND SPECIAL HUMAN FRIEND  
sans (9 hours ago): on our way  
COOLSKELETON95 (8 hours ago): HUMAN AIR-CAR LESS COOL THAN EXPECTED.  
COOLSKELETON95 (7 hours ago): WOWIE!  YOU MUST BE VERY BUSY WITH YOUR HUMAN WORK.  
COOLSKELETON95 (7 hours ago): SANS SAYS THAT IT IS ENTITLED “SLEEPING.”  
COOLSKELETON95 (7 hours ago): I KNEW HE WAS A BAD INFLUENCE.  
COOLSKELETON95 (3 hours ago): IN THE HUMAN KINGDOM.  SO MANY BIG FRISKS!  
COOLSKELETON95 (2 hours ago): I DIDN’T KNOW THAT THE HUMANS NAMED THEIR KINGDOMS AFTER SPICES.  
COOLSKELETON95 (2 hours ago): SANS HAS INFORMED ME THAT “OREGON” IS NOT SHORT FOR “OREGANO.”  
COOLSKELETON95 (2 hours ago): SANS HAS INFORMED ME THAT OREGON IS NOT A KINGDOM.

You smirk.  Of course he’d call adult humans “big Frisks.”  This IS the same monster who calls your brother “tiny Asgore,” after all. You’re a little curious about who his “special human friend” might be, but you can’t think of any humans that Papyrus might know.  Weird, but whatever.  You’re glad that he’s making new friends.

COOLSKELETON95 (1 hour ago): WE SHOULD HANG OUT  
sans (43 minutes ago): no texts? tori must be giving you a baaaaad time

You groan internally at Sans’s mediocre pun and do your best to type out a message.  It’s a little time-consuming with only 4 digits on each hand, but you make do. 

YOU >> COOLSKELETON95 (just now): Good morning!  I’m busy right now, but we should hang out soon!  
YOU >> sans (just now): Nah, something else got my goat.

You set your phone back down.  It’s nice to get so much attention from your friends, but you have other things to do.

“Az, have you found anything?  We need to get going as soon as possible.”

“I think so.  Uh, you’re not picky about colour, are you?”

“Not really.”

That’s when he pulls out a ragged scarf that makes tie-die look dull by comparison.  Yes, it really is that bad.  The rainbow of colours staining the tattered cloth are painfully bright and fade from one to another with no rhyme or reason.  It’s absolutely hideous, but Asriel beams proudly. 

_He has a ‘special’ fashion sense, does he not?_

You have to agree.  You know that your brother is a fan of rainbows and excessive, technicolour clothing, but this is a bit much.

“This’ll be perfect for covering your face!  What do you think?”

You think it’s incredibly ugly.

“…I love it.”

Asriel puffs out his chest and shoots you a confident grin.

“Of course you do!  I made it myself!”

 

He tosses the hideous cloth at you and turns back around to rummage through his luggage.  What other nightmares does he have in store?  You wince at the sight of the homemade scarf and set it down beside you.

“Alright, so I could give you some of my baggier stuff, but…  You’re way smaller than me, so I’m not sure if you’d be able to wear it at all.”

“I’m not THAT short, Az.  Jeeze.”

“Sure thing, shorstack.”

“I’m not short, you’re just tall!”

“You’re shorter than most humans, aren’tcha?  I mean, humans are _tiny_.  That’s gotta be embarrassing.”

He’s…  Kind of got a point.  An irritating point that you’ll never accept out loud, but a point nonetheless.  You grab a loose hoodie and a pair of too-large khaki pants from your luggage and hope that they’ll be enough to at least disguise what kind of monster you are.  There’s no way for you to look even remotely human, but you might be able to at least pass yourself off as some sort of dog.  Hopefully. 

You remember something.

Don’t your closest friends have a right to know about your change before the humans find out?  They’ve stuck with you through the good times and the bad, and act as a sort of extended family.  A weird extended family with a _robotic celebrity_ in it, maybe, but a family. 

The thought of telling the people closest to you about this new development fills you with INTEGRITY.  You pick up your phone and point its modded-in camera (thank you, Doctor Alphys!) at your face.  The tap of a button, the click of a tiny shutter, the flash of a gas discharge tube, and your face is captured in 8 megapixel glory.

“What’re you doing?”

“Sharing the good news with a few friends.”

Asriel peeks over your shoulder as you create a group message:

 

YOU >> COOLSKELETON95, sans, MTT, Napstablook22, StrongFish91, Alphys, MK (just now):  
How well can you guys keep a secret?  
(MTT_2XXX0703_139 ATTACHED)

You allow yourself a small smile.  Humans be damned, today will be a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my quality of writing has been going steadily downhill. I should probably find a beta, but I'm too ashamed of the fact that I write fanfiction to ask anyone I know in real life.
> 
> That's kinda pathetic, huh?  
> Well, at least I figured out how to embed images. Hurrah for me.


	8. Going POSTAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you're weak and can do nothing.  
> In which Asriel takes charge, despite your latent megalomania.   
> In which you meet an old friend.  
> In which worldbuilding takes place.
> 
> Nowhere is truly safe for monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's an incredibly long update, but it's an update. The story is now technically novella-length. 
> 
> My Tumblr is, as always, http://orion-sez.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you for your patience, dearest readers.  
> Well, you're either patient or you just stopped caring. For the sake of my ego, I'll assume the former. Heh.

You tell your brother to turn around as you slip into your clothing as quickly as possible.  You’re eager to explore with him, despite your misgivings about humanity.  You travel near-constantly, city to city, nation to nation, while he usually stays within the borders of the Kingdom.  It’s safer that way- Asriel’s so delicate, so pure, and even one bad run-in with the humans might ruin that.  You’ve been very careful to _‘curate’_ what it is he does and doesn’t see when it comes to humanity, so most excursions to human-held cities are off limits.  The city you’re in, with its 20% monster population, is safe.  You’re sure that no human would be stupid enough to bother your family here. 

_A city filled with creatures that could kill you with a single blow.  What a sanctuary._

Okay, _relatively_ safe.  Unity is a new city that was built for the express purpose of hosting the annual relations conference, so it’s mostly attracted humans open to the idea of living near monsters.  There’s exceptions, oblivious people who moved in and never got the memo that the entire town was BUILT TO FOSTER INTERSPECIES RELATIONS, but they’re part of a small minority. 

A small minority that will never act on its hatred, thanks to the city’s overwhelming police presence.  The local government hasn’t been entirely helpful or understanding, but it’s at least prioritized keeping monsters alive.  That’s what’s best for it.  People moving in with pockets filled with literal gold tend to simulate the local economy, and they’d run off with all of their precious yellow metal if they felt unsafe.

**_Typical.  Humans only care when caring makes them rich._ **

That being said, you’ll still have to watch over Asriel very closely.  There’s no such thing as ‘complete safety’ for monsters in human territory, and that’s doubly true for royalty. 

_I want to protect him as much as you do, but is this really the correct path?  He will be the king one day.  He needs to grow stronger._

**_I’ll be strong for him.  I’ll be strong for everyone.  That’s my job._ **

_Last I checked, your only job was begging the humans to stop killing us._

Whatever.  If they want to be a stick in the mud, the can go ahead.  You don’t really care. 

 

“You can turn back around, Az.  I’m decent.”

When he sees you he fidgets and you swear that you can see his brow crease a little- but then it’s back to normal.  Probably just your imagination.  There’s nothing concerning about your appearance…  Right?  Well, just to be sure…

“Why are you looking at me like that? Is something wrong?”                  

“H-huh?  Oh, nothing!  I was just thinking.”

You consider asking about his thoughts, but that’ll come off as invasive.  Best to let him have his small concerns while you worry about the big picture.  You’re the adult in this situation.  You’ve always been the responsible one.

You look over the rainbow-patterned scarf that you’ll be covering your muzzle with more closely.

_Otherworldly Scarf.  Grants 8 defence and boosts bullet speed.  Smells like sugar cookies._

How does Chara come up with these stats?  Are they bullshitting and hoping that the placebo effect will make your SOUL take less damage?  You’re pretty sure that’s possible, since everything about magical damage is built around emotion and thought.  As long as you _think_ you’re protected, you’ll actually be protected.  It’s pretty convenient stuff.  Maybe some made up stats about defence and ‘bullet speed,’ whatever that is, will do you some good.

_You wound me.  I do not ‘make up’ my statistics._

**_How do you get them, then?_ **

Chara scoffs, as if what you’re asking them is common sense.

_This information is simply the truth- I cannot change it any more than you can.  Now put on the stupid scarf._

That’s the end of THAT conversation.  You lift your ears out of the way and tie the scarf around the back of your head as a sort of makeshift bandanna.  It’s saturated with a faint, sweet smell that makes your nose tingle, but it seems otherwise unremarkable.    

You flip your sweater’s hood back over your head, feeling slightly self-conscious.  You probably look ridiculous. 

Your brother’s grin makes the embarrassment worth it.  Almost.

“You look great, Frisk!  Just be sure to take good care of the scarf, alright?  It’s important to me.”

What a silly thing to be worried about.  You assure your brother that yes, you’ll treat the scarf with the utmost respect and concern. 

_Bullet speed, bullet speed…  Whatever could that mean?_

You toss the elements of your suit into a plastic grocery bag before opening your phone’s ‘Dimensional Box’ menu.  The idea of storing your valuables in some unseen space-between-dimensions has always struck you as weird, but it’s convenient enough for you to eschew your usual reservations about creepy-void-magic.  Your phone vibrates gently, and the fizzle of magical energy fills the air as the plastic bag holding your suit vanishes in a flash of blue light.  You’ll be able to retrieve it later.  Satisfied, you grab a room key and pocket your phone, as ready as you ever will be.  You give your brother a curt nod and wordlessly move to leave the room.  Your gait is stiff and unsteady, almost a limp, but you refuse to let that hinder you.  You’ve got work to do.

 

**_Item one: Get the suit tailored.  That shouldn’t be too difficult.  If I remember correctly, we can get to the MTT Fashion Emporium by taking the 33 rd bus circuit._ **

**_Item two: Discuss logistics with the managers of the MTT Convention Centre. We’ll probably have some sort of ‘big reveal’ of my new species- we’ll have to figure out sound and lighting for that.  The centre’s right next to the Fashion Emporium._ **

**_Item three: Talk to Sans, by phone or in person.  We need to discuss my inability to LOAD and RESET._ **

_As if his knowing will change anything._

**_Item four: Return to the hotel and draft a speech about my changes.  The humans will-_ **

BZZZT.

Oh.  Your phone’s buzzer.  Who’s sending you messages?

COOLSKELETON95 (just now): WOWIE!  I HAVE NO IDEA WHO THAT IS.  WHY ARE THEY A SECRET?

BZZZT.

COOLSKELETON95 (just now): ARE THEY YOUR SECRET PAL?

BZZZT.

COOLSKELETON95 (just now): WHY WOULD YOU NEED TO KEEP YOUR PALS SECRET?

You momentarily regret sending out that group text, but quickly banish the feeling.  Papyrus is your _friend_ , your _close friend_.  Refusing to tell him about your condition would be needlessly cruel.  As a friend, he has every right to know about this before it goes public. 

YOU >> COOLSKELETON95 (just now): You’ve met them before.

“Frisk, I thought we were leaving.  What’s the holdup?”

BZZZT.

 “Papyrus.”

That’s enough explanation.  Your brother looks at you curiously for a moment before sitting back down on his bed.  You elect to stay standing, back pressed against the wall, and hope that your other friends will be slower to text you.

COOLSKELETON95 (just now): I DON’T REMEMBER MEETING THEM.  WHAT’S THEIR NAME?  WHY ARE THEY SECRET? 

You groan.  You don’t know why you thought subtlety was a good idea with Papyrus of all monsters.  He’s a nice person, but sometimes he’s not the brightest.

YOU >> COOLSKELETON95 (just now): It’s a picture of me. 

There’s no way he could misconstrue that.  It’s a picture of you.  Ergo, you must be a monster.  There, was that hard?

 

BZZZT.

COOLSKELETON95 (just now): NO, THAT’S A PICTURE OF A MONSTER.  ARE YOU FEELING WELL, TINY HUMAN?

For fuck’s sake.

BZZZT.

COOLSKELETON95 (just now): IT’S OKAY!  TELL THE GREAT PAPYRUS WHERE YOU ARE, AND HE WILL BE SURE TO GET YOU A HELPING OF GET-WELL-SOON SPAGHETTI.

BZZZT.

COOLSKELETON95 (just now): UNLESS YOU ARE FEELING OKAY AND THIS IS SOME SORT OF ELABORATE PRANK.  IN WHICH CASE, HOW DARE YOU.

Your frustration must be clearly evident on your face, because Asriel is struggling to hold in his laughter. 

Damnit, Papyrus.

YOU >> COOLSKELETON95 (just now): It’s a picture of me.  I am no longer human.  Do you understand?

_I want to see how he screws this one up._

…

…?

You wait for a full minute but your phone remains silent.  Papyrus is probably reeling in shock or… Something.  He’s not responding, so it doesn’t really matter

You decide to send out another group message to clear up the vagueness of your first.  Nobody else in your recipients list is quite as ‘unique’ as Papyrus, but it pays to be prepared.

YOU >>sans, MTT, Napstablook22, StrongFish91, Alphys, MK (just now): Yes, that’s a picture of me.  It’s a long story.

Satisfied, you pocket your phone once more. 

 

“Sorry about the wait, Az.  Just had to clear a few things up with Paps.  You know how he is.”

_Yes, we all know that the tall skeleton is an idiot.  Get moving._

Asriel gives you a quick nod and stands back up.  Time to go.  You shout a quick goodbye to your still-preoccupied parents and enter the hotel hallway with your brother.  Now that you’re out of your room, you can hear the quiet bustle of morning- conversations behind every door, the footsteps of room service and guest alike, the clatter of morning service cutlery.  Humans and monsters preparing for a busy pre-conference day.  The hallway stretches onward to your left and right; tough, short-pile grey carpet rubs uncomfortably against your paws.

“Where’s the way out?”

“Oh, uh, right this way!  Tell me if you need to slow down or stop, alright?  It’s okay to have a little trouble with relearning how to walk.”

How nice of him to think of your wellbeing!  Truth be told, your stiff, staggering gait puts you at a steep disadvantage in the ‘getting from point A to point B’ department, but you’re too proud to admit that your brother is on the verge of outpacing you.  Instead, you half-limp your way after Asriel as he seeks out the hotel elevator. 

“So!  They do a free breakfast here, which we should probably go to.  I know that we’re in a hurry, but you haven’t eaten anything since before you…  Well, you know.  I hear that they’re serving monster food!”

Thank whatever gods are out there for THAT small mercy.  Monster food is easy on the digestive system because it dissolves into pure energy when it hits the throat.  Unfortunately, this means that a diet consisting entirely of monster food will slowly but surely render a person’s digestive system completely dormant.  Attempting to ‘kickstart’ the dormant digestive tract with physical food can result in some unpleasant experiences.  You wince at the memory of hours spent in the bathroom throwing up blood because of the biscuit you’d eaten at a diplomatic luncheon.  There’s no way you’re ever reliving that. 

_Humans are so vile that even their simplest foods can render you ill.  Be careful during breakfast._

 

Lost in your thoughts as you are, you narrowly avoid crashing into Asriel when he stops in front of the burnished steel doors of the hotel elevator.  Unfortunately, in avoiding a direct collision with your brother, you manage to hit the floor.  Hard.  You wince as the pads of your hands slam into the tough, unforgiving carpet, leaving a thin trail of grey dust as they rub up against the rough material.

_You are at 59 out of 60 HP._

What, a tiny fall was enough to damage your SOUL?  You’ve only ever lost HP to magical- Oh.  Your body is an extension of your SOUL, a magical projection rather than an actual, physical organism.  Of course physical harm would translate to a decrease in HP.

Asriel is on you in an instant.

“Golly, are you okay?  Did I trip you up?  I should’ve gotten out of your way or-”

You stand (albeit shakily) and steady yourself against the wall to give your trembling legs a rest.  Why do you have to be so damn _weak_? 

“I’m fine.  Should’ve been watching where I was going, that’s all.  Don’t worry about it.” 

“There’s dust on your hands!   We need to get you healed and cleaned up.”

“It’s just a little.  I’m okay.  I’ll just, uh, wipe it off on my pants or something.”

Your brother nods, but he wears his trademark concerned frown.  He’s not happy with your solution.

 

The elevator finally opens with a noise vaguely approximating the chime of a bell, and it lets out several disgruntled-looking humans.  Most are dressed in crumpled t-shirts and pants, and one is even wearing pyjamas.  They must have woken up late and rushed down for breakfast.  Almost all of them keep their blank stares fixed ahead, but one, a young boy, tugs on the edge of an adult’s shirt and points toward the two of you.  You stiffen, and Asriel places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

“Mom, look!  I saw that one on TV!”

“Sweetheart, not now.  Mommy’s tired.”

“No, look!  It’s the one from the news!  Az…  Azzyrul!”

“Sweetie, the prince of monsters isn’t staying at a ratty hotel.  You’re seeing things.”

Predictably, not one of the adult humans spares a single glance backwards- only the boy stares back over his shoulder at Asriel. You relax slightly once the humans take a turn and are out of sight. 

That was really weird.                                                                        

You and your brother give each other a _look_ , a wordless ‘did you just see that?,’ but neither of you can think of anything to say.  Asriel shrugs and enters the elevator shortly before its doors close, and you hobble after him. 

The hotel lobby is a nightmarish whirlwind of luggage and people, impatient-looking humans and monsters trying to figure out where to go and how to get there.  The front desk is absolutely swamped with visitors and the maddening din of cutlery in use comes from the nearby dining room. 

This, here, is your element.  The crowds, the confusion, the lack of any social focus.  _Disjointed_.  _Weak._   _Easy to manipulate.  Easy to lie to_.  _Easy to blend in with_.  Easy, easy, easy. 

But you’re just not feeling it right now.  Whereas yesterday you might have seen opportunities and weaknesses in every passer-by, today you see nothing but strangers and their baggage.  Whereas before chaos was a thing to be tamed by sheer force of DETERMINATION, today it borders on terrifying.  What is wrong with you? 

You take a deep breath and square your shoulders.  The best way to deal with a personal problem, in your eyes, is to act as if there is no problem to be solved.  You’ll force aside your fears and get yourself some breakfast.

…

You don’t actually manage to squash down your terror, but you force your body into a relaxed stance.  Fake it until you make it, and all that. 

The breakfast line moves at a snail’s pace, and you feel dozens of eyes affixed on yourself and Asriel- some human, some monster.  You’re used to catching stares from strangers due to your position as ambassador, but the undue attention never ceases to annoy.  Regardless, you and Asriel eventually find yourselves in the small dining room.  The floor is some sort of marbled yellowish linoleum, and the walls are simple white drywall.  The aromas of cooking filter through your scarf- you’re sure that if you had a functioning stomach, it’d be growling right now.  Metal trays sit atop several haphazardly-placed wooden banquet tables, and disposable cutlery is scattered about everywhere. Seems that the morning rush has already done a number on the hotel’s buffet. 

In the corner of the room, you make out a small wooden table with a single metal tray atop it.  A piece of white paper is taped to the front of the table, and has ‘MONSTER FOOD’ scrawled on it in black marker.  Looks like the kitchen staff did a last-minute or half-assed job with this one.  Either way, disappointing.  When you reach the display, you take a paper plate and survey your culinary options.  The stench is indescribable.

_Reheated ‘sausages.’  Heals -1 HP.  Rubbery and greyish.  Smells like beef jerky and burnt plastic._

_‘Monster waffles.’  Heals 0 HP.  Not actual monster food.  They smell nice, though._

_Burnt toast.  Heals 5 HP.  Straight out of the toaster.  Blackened, but edible._

_Mothball.  Heals 0 HP.  It is a literal mothball.  Not food at all.  What is it doing here?_

_Sticky note.  Heals 0 HP.  Reads ‘Hope you choke on it, stupid animals.’  Very rude._

_Pile of mysterious powder.  ??!?  Smells bitter.  You have a bad feeling about this._

What the _hell_?  This is human hospitality?  Food that’s so incompetently prepared that it hurts you, arbitrary inedible items strewn about, a vaguely-threatening hate-message and a mysterious, grey…

Oh God. 

Shit, fuck, no no no.  That can’t be-

 

_Powder identified.  Monster dust.  Smells like limes and sorrow.  A product of human nature._

You jolt backwards and let out what can only be described as a bleat when you come to the sickening realization that there’s essentially a _dead body_ in the breakfast display.

“Frisk, is that…?”

Your legs wobble and threaten to give out, but you try to stand tall.  You will not allow yourself to act irrationally in this situation, even though _somebody died and…_

“SOMEBODY, HELP!”

_You’ll never be able to undo that with a LOAD or RESET and you’ve failed because you should have protected them and-_

You feel something hot on your cheeks: a small part of your mind- your mind, not Chara’s- informs you that you’re sobbing loudly, shivering, and hugging yourself.  Pathetic.  It’s not like you to lose your composure so easily.

“-please, sir, this is serious, call the authorities-”

“-WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, NO MATCH?  I’LL STUFF MY BOOT UP YOUR-”

You sink to your knees and shiver pathetically, sobs wracking your chest.   Someone’s dead and you can’t bring them back.  Ever.  No more resets.  They’re dead forever and it’s _your fault because you can’t reset you useless piece of-_

“Didn’t you notice that there was dust down here?  Seriously?  How much of an idiot are you?”

_A useless child who cannot save even a single monster.  Useless, and alone.  Asriel probably hates you because of what you have done.  You let them die.  You could have helped.  You could have been down here sooner.  You could have done anything, but instead you sat in the hotel room and hugged, like the sentimental idiot you are.  Pathetic.  Weak.  Worthless.  Foolish.  I should be the one in control.  MY memories are what saved Asriel.  MY determination allowed us to SAVE and LOAD.  I should be the one with the family and new body, not you.  Give me control.  You deserve_

_N_  
O  
T  
H  
I  
-

“kid.  c’mon.  get up.”

You’d recognize that gentle baritone anywhere.  You force your eyes upwards, snivelling like the _pathetic little child you are_ , to meet the empty, blackened sockets of a human skull.  Er, a monster’s skull, technically, but he resembles a short human skeleton all the same.

“that _is_ you, right kiddo?”

As always, Sans appears when he is needed most.  You don’t trust your throat to work properly, so you simply nod and try your best to stand.

“easy, kiddo, easy.  your bro’s talkin’ to the human cops right now.  he looks _really_ pissed.”

“They’re dead and I can’t bring them back and I should’ve s-stopped it or-”

“i heard.  sorry ‘bout that.  doesn’t seem like the kinda thing you’d wanna see in the morning.  or, uh, ever.”

You choke out a half-laugh, half-sob at his nonchalant attitude.  The strain at the edges of his permanent grin make it obvious that he’s putting on a show for your benefit, but it’s easy to pretend that he really _is_ this aloof. 

“anyways.  i don’t think stayin’ here is a good idea.  at all.  too many eyes around.”

“But Asriel and-”

“the prince is tough.  he can handle it.  already gave me the go-ahead to get you outta here- with your permission, i mean.” 

“But…  But he needs…  He needs…”

“he needs you to be ok.  you coming?”

 

You want to stay for Asriel, you want to be strong, you want to put on that steely mask of neutrality that you’ve worn for years.  Yet here you are, unable to manage your own damned emotions.  Disgusting…

But.

Sans has a point.  It’s not a point you’d like to acknowledge, granted, but it’s true that you won’t be able to help Asriel in this state.  You’re terrified of how he’ll handle himself around the humans, but if Sans has faith in the prince’s abilities, then you will too.  A small part of your mind suggests that it might even be **nice** to get away from this chaos, if only for a moment.  Ugh.  Fine.

You extend a hand, and Sans’s expression brightens instantly.  You see small orbs of white, magical light subtly glow into existence within his eyesockets- they fill out his empty, dead gaze into that of a living monster. 

“heh.  don’t know how much your choice mattered, but for what it’s worth, i think you did the right thing.  c’mon, let’s take a shortcut.”

You squeeze your eyes shut when the hard bones of his hand rub stiffly against the exposed pads of your palms.  You hate taking the skeleton’s little ‘shortcuts,’ but they’re too convenient to pass up.  Just like the dimensional box system.

“and we’re here.”

You open your eyes and _of course_ you’re in that ratty underground bar.  As far as you’re aware, the subterranean village of Snowdin has been abandoned ever since the barrier was destroyed, but Sans’s favourite bar, Grillby’s remains standing.  A little worse for the wear, and without any staff or customers, but it hasn’t collapsed on itself quite yet.  The defunct place is lit by an electrical lantern set atop the bar’s counter. 

“heh.  i’d take you to the one on the surface, but, y’know…  s’crowded.  anyways.  c’mere.  sit down.  we’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

Every step he makes toward the bar is punctuated by the groan of rotting wooden floorboards, straining underneath the short skeleton’s impressive weight.  You wince at the noises but follow, taking a seat next to him on a warped old stool.  Grillby’s has seen better days.

Sans does his best impression of a deep breath (not like skeletons actually need to breathe) and fixes you with his normal, bright-eyed expression.  The lights in his eyesockets glow softly, and his grin is warm and sincere.  He’s certainly come a long way since you first met him in the underground.

_Sans.  5 HP.  1 ATK.  1 DEF.  Smells like ketchup._

5 HP, huh?  That’s not much, but it’s better than his old stats.  You’re glad that life on the surface has instilled some HOPE in your tired friend. 

“couldja take off that scarf?  wearing it around your face like that is making you look awful _shifty_.”

The expectant stare and subtle verbal emphasis indicate that he’s trying to make some sort of joke, but you really don’t get it.  At all.  You tug the scarf down to your neck and fix Sans with a curious stare.

“huh.  guess that one was a miss.  eh, i’m sure someone out there thinks it’s funny.  where’d you come by that old rag, anyway?”

“Asriel.”

“the prince, huh?  thought so.”

“Did you invite me down here to calm me down by talking about borrowed clothing, or is there something else?”

“y’know exactly what we came here to chat about.  c’mon, kid, just spill the beans so you can go back to ogling the goat boy, or whatever.”

The flush of your skin must be evident through that coat of fur, because Sans is only barely containing his laughter. 

“There are _so many_ things wrong with what you just said.” 

“you’ve already taken him to home base?  very proactive.”

“I-I…  That’s- that’s my _brother_ , Sans!  I can’t just- we couldn’t- that’d…  Ugh.  Why?”

“oh, you’re waiting ‘til marriage.  trying to preserve the royal image , huh?  cool.  what would we call you then?  couldn’t go with king or queen.  maybe ‘monarch frisk.’  sound good to you?” 

You know that he’s joking, partially because of the stupid things he’s saying and partially because of that massive shit-eating grin.  Doesn’t stop his crass sense of humour from embarrassing you. 

“heh.  sorry if i went a lil’ far with that one, but it’s nice to see a reaction on that poker face of yours.  uh, but really, why’d you do it?”

 

You don’t think that Sans is going to like this story at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been slogging through mountains of paperwork thanks to a birth certificate misunderstanding, which is just DELIGHTFUL.   
> I never want to visit the county clerk's office ever again.


	9. ...Without a Paddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong. Asriel shouts at a police chief. Frisk has a heart-to-heart with Chara. The media gets involved.
> 
> Oh, and Papyrus, because I'm a self-indulgent fuck who loves writing oblivious characters.

“so.  lemme get this straight.  you want me to keep an eye out for motel wizards?” 

“Sans, this is serious!  I- I think that thing wanted to _kill_ me!  And if something with the power to change SOULs is against us…”

“yeah.  ‘s a big issue.  not gonna lie, this story of yours is a pretty big pill to swallow, but i’ve heard crazier.  i’ll see what i can do about your mage problem.”

Despite the skeleton’s blasé take on the issue, you know that his cheerful, carefree exterior is little more than a façade.  When it counts, Sans is one of the most hardworking monsters you know.  
“Thank you.  Any more questions?”

“eh.  nah, not really.  you said ‘no more resets,’ but i kinda ruled that out after year 3 on the surface.  figured you were satisfied enough to not, you know, trash everyone’s happy ending again.”  
The skeleton fixes his stare on the steel door in the back of the bar labelled “FIRE EXIT.”  He’s…  Uncomfortable, you think, or maybe angry.  It’s hard to judge by facial expression alone when half of the guy’s face is completely static. 

Sans hops back off his barstool, but motions for you to stay put.   
“i’m gonna grab some grub from the kitchen.  grillbz left all sorts of good stuff down here.  want anything?”

Your first instinct is revulsion because _that food’s been in a storeroom for years_ , but you give yourself the conscious reminder that monster food doesn’t spoil.  Fortunately for monsterkind, there’s no such thing as a bacteria or fungus that feeds off of magical foodstuffs.   
“Uh, some fries would be nice.  If you don’t mind, I mean.  And without ketchup, please?”

Sans winks at you and chuckles quietly.  
“heh.  you learned that lesson the hard way, huh?  alright, i’ll be right back.”

Sans vanishes with a flash of blue and a puff of ozone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

_Frisk.  We need to talk._

Well, you’re never truly alone, are you?

 

*

 

“Again, I’ll ask: How much of an idiot are you?  What kind of police department lets someone waltz in covered in dust?  Are your men incompetent, or just poorly-managed?”

“Er, y-your majesty, please, calm down.  As- as much as we’d like, we can’t be in total control of every human.  Of course, this tragedy is terrible and we’ll try our best to bring the perp to justice, but-”

“But nothing.  Have you heard of any monsters murdering humans?  Of course you haven’t.  We have a handle on our people, Debois, so get a handle on yours.  Maybe I’ll want to discuss your department’s most-recent failure with the city council.  Do you think they’ll want to hear this?”

“B-but please consider how many assassinations we’ve p-prevented.  Y-your ambassador has been the target of so many hate groups…”

“Frisk was the one who tipped you off about every plot!  Your men have _never_ unearthed a plot on their own.  Pathetic.  Golly, maybe they’ll do better under someone more concerned with doing his job?”

“Y-you can’t sack me.  Y-you’re powerful, but you don’t run Unity.  A-and you’re just a prince!  You… You aren’t in charge of anything!”

“I know the people who _can_ fire you.  Don’t test me.  Bring this _murderer_ to justice by tomorrow or there’ll be consequences, Debois.  Are we clear?”

“W-where’s your ambassador?  I want to talk with th-the ambassador, they’re much more-”

“I said _are we clear?”_

“…Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…  Your majesty…”

“Get it done.”

Asriel tries his best to ignore the frenzied shouting of policemen and concerned citizens.  The hotel has become even more of a madhouse- it doesn’t help that there’s at least a dozen reporting crews filming the prince’s every movement. 

 

“So, your majesty, is it true that Frisk Dreemurr has called in every assassination attempt on her person?  How is that possible?”

“No comment.”

“Er- but what about Benjamin Debois, the chief of police?  Are you actually considering vouching for his replacement?”

“Yes.  I am.”

“What would you say to those of us watching from home?  Not many of us have seen this side of the royal family, so I’m sure that lots of us are, uh, very confused!”

“Well, golly, we all have our bad days!  The royal family is facing some…  Internal readjustment, thanks to events concerning our ambassador.  Th-they’ll be fine, though!”

Asriel bites his lip.  He shouldn’t have said that.  Shouldn’t have blown Frisk’s cover.  A reporter immediately picks up on the prince’s nervousness and elbows his way past several of his colleagues, eyes shimmering with excitement. 

“So!  What, exactly, is the problem regarding your country’s head of human relations?  I’m sure that those of us watching from home have noticed her absence from the scene, given the fact that the two of you are, um, inseparable.”

“This will be discussed tomorrow, at the conference.”

“Is she well?  Has she contracted some sort of, perhaps, rare monster illness?”

“ _They’re_ fine.  Just trying to figure out how to share certain…  Information.”

_He should NOT have said that, either.  Shit._

“What kind of ‘information?’  Anything about the children who vanished climbing Mount Ebbot?  Your regime has been infamously cagey about the subject.”

“It’s not a _regime_.  And we haven’t been cagey at all!  Golly, what happened to those children is tragic!”

“What happened to them, exactly?”

“They disappeared.  You’ve already heard all of this, why are you asking-”

“Yes, but _why_ did they disappear?”

Asriel doesn’t like this reporter.  Too hawkish.  Too keen on getting the prince to slip up and say something, _anything_ wrong.

“The Kingdom denies all connection to the unfortunate deaths of those children.  Our SOULs are with yours in mourning the loss.”

“Yes, but _WHY?_ ”

“We don’t know.  Next question.”

The reporter turns around to ensure that his colleague- a flinty-looking fellow with a scraggly, dirty-blonde beard and a massive camera slung over his shoulder- is following before resuming the barrage. 

“Fine.  Fine.  If this data-dump of yours isn’t about the lost kids, what is it about?”

“It’s not a- not a ‘data dump.’  Frisk has to share…  Something personal.”

The reporter tousles his black, curly hair before placing a hand on his plastic earpiece. 

“E-excuse me, but I’ve just received a report that…  There’s allegations of your ambassador _collapsing_ in this hotel’s lobby, last night.  Any comments on that?”

“They’re fine.  And where are you getting these ‘allegations?’  They’re fine.  Nothing bad happened.  Just…  Go home, please.  Our hands were full even without this murder.”

The reporter rubs his forehead before holding his mic aside.

“Listen.  Listen.  The American people- we, uh, we don’t want to be kept in the dark.  I don’t know how they do things in your dictatorship-”

“Kingdom.  We’re a kingdom.”

“ _Kingdom_ , right, but, uh, we value transparency here in the States, and we’d appreciate if you played by our rules, just a bit?  Please?”

Asriel fights the urge to laugh.  ‘Transparency,’ right, because the humans are _totally_ honest 100% of the time.  The reporter must take his facial expression to mean something else, because he’s got the mic ready in an instant.

“So…?”

“Something…  Something big has happened.  That’s all I can say.  It- it isn’t an issue that’s mine to discuss.  Frisk will talk about it tomorrow.  During the Conference.”

The reporter turns back to the camera with a big, phony grin plastered on his face. 

“Well, you heard it here, folks!  Expect “SOMETHING BIG” at tomorrow’s conference on human-monster relations!  Be sure to tune in to DNN’s coverage of the event at 9 AM PST, 6 AM EST!”

He turns back to Asriel and lets the grin fall back into an ordinary smile.

“And thank you, your majesty, for your time!  I’d ask more questions, but it looks like the crowd is really-”

The cameraman coughs.

“Yo, they’ve cut the feed.”

“Well, that’s it, I guess.“

“AH, THERE YOU ARE!  PRINCE, DO YOU KNOW THE WHEREABOUTS OF OUR TINY HUMAN?”

 

The reporter spins around and taps on his earpiece a few times before mumbling something and motioning towards the cameraman. 

“Get- get that thing in position!  We’re gonna be back on!”

“Dude, what?  Why?  We already got our talk with goat-face over there.  Gotta roll out before traffic turns to shit.”

The reporter gives Asriel a plaintive look before adjusting his tie and rolling his shoulders.

“Er- sorry, your majesty, but it looks like we’re gonna be back on air in just a second.  And…  Sorry about- huh?  Uh…  Shit…”

“WOWIE!  YOU SURE HAVE MADE A LOT OF NEW FRIENDS, YOUR MAJESTY!  SO MANY LARGE HUMANS!”

Asriel kneads his forehead and looks up at the lanky skeleton towering over the crowd.  He’s clad in a shining suit of armour that’s a far-cry from his paper-mache “battle body” from the underground.  If it weren’t for the monster wearing it, Asriel might even call the armour ‘intimidating.’  Reporters and cameramen jostle around Papyrus as he obliviously shoves people aside in order to get closer to the prince. 

“What the fuck is that?”                                                                                                                                                       

“We’re on air!  Cool it!  This is the uh- the ‘mascot of monsterkind,’ I’m being told.  Get your camera on him.”

“AH!  HUMAN!  I SEE THAT MY REPUTATION PROCEEDS ME!  INDEED, IT IS, THE GREAT, GLAMOROUS PAPYRUS!”

Papyrus smiles- or, at least, his permanent skeletal grin grows slightly bigger- as he takes in the frazzled reporter.

“I SEE THAT YOU ARE IN AWE OF MY MAJESTY.  A NATURAL REACTION TO MY SKELETAL SPLENDOUR!  NYEHEHEHEH!” 

The reporter winces at Papyrus’s nasal screech, but tries his best to keep his smile from turning into a grimace.

“R-right, right, of course, the, uh, the _great_ Papyrus.  Of course.  It’s, uh, a pleasure to meet you.”

“YOU MEAN YOU’RE HAPPY TO SEE ME?”

“I…  Yes, that is what I mean.”

Asriel chops his hand at his throat in a universal gesture of _don’t say anything_ , but Papyrus is oblivious to the signal, focused as he is on his interaction with the media.  He extends a shining, orange-ringed gauntlet to the human, who takes it tentatively.

“WOWIE!  YOU WANT TO SHAKE MY HAND, TOO?  YOU MUST REALLY WANT TO BE FRIENDS!”

He shakes the human’s arm violently, and Asriel fears for a moment that the man’s going to have his shoulder dislocated.  The reporter looks…  Appropriately terrified.

“IN FACT…”

Papyrus puts a hand to his chin in an exaggerated moment of thought before cackling joyfully.

“NYEHEH!  WE COULD EVEN BE **BEST FRIENDS**!”

“B-best?”

“AH, DO NOT LET THE PRESSURE OF BEING MY BEST FRIEND GET TO YOU!  I HAVE MANY BEST FRIENDS!  ASGORE…  ASGORE’S CLONE…  FLOWERY…”

“C-clone?  Wha…”

“SANS, FRISK, THE PRINCE, MY PET ROCK, ALPHYS, UNDYNE, SANS’S HUMAN FRIEND, METTATON, BURGERPANTS, A SNOWMAN, MONSTER KID, AND LAST, BUT NOT LEAST, YOU!  AS YOU CAN SEE, I HAVE MANY BEST FRIENDS!  AS IS BEFITTING A MONSTER OF MY GREATNESS!”

The reporter stares ahead with a blank expression, eyes wide.

“Boss, are you okay?  Did it attack you?”

Papyrus spins around to face the cameraman, orange cape billowing in the breeze.

“AH!  DO NOT BE CONCERNED, HUMAN-WITH-FUR-ON-ITS-FACE!  I WAS SIMPLY ENGAGING MY FRIEND IN A TRADITIONAL GREETING!”

“I-I’m fine.  Just…  Trying to calm down.  Christ, I almost had a heart attack.”

“IF YOUR HEART ATTACKS YOU, I, AS YOUR NEW BESTIE, WILL HELP YOU DEFEAT IT IN COMBAT.”

“…Thank you?”

“BUT OF COURSE!”

 

“Papyrus…  It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, but, um, why are you here?”

“WOWIE!  I DIDN’T KNOW THAT THE PRINCE WAS A FAN OF PHILOSOPHY!”

“N-no, I mean, for what reason did you come to the hotel?”

Papyrus pauses for a moment in thought, suddenly eerily-still.  It’s odd how quickly he can switch between his hyperactive jitters and relative normalcy. 

“OH.  I REMEMBER!  I WAS COMING TO CHECK ON THE TINY HUMAN!  THEY SENT ME SOME TROUBLING TEXTS EARLIER.”

“What do you mean by _troubling?_   And, uh, maybe not in front of the crowd?”

Papyrus casts a furtive glance around the crowd before placing a gauntlet in front of his mouth.  The action does nothing to muffle his impressive, booming shriek.

“RIGHT.  THEY SAID IN THEIR TEXTS THAT THEY WERE NO LONGER HUMAN?  THEY SENT ME STRANGE PICTURES OF A MONSTER THAT I HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE.  I AM WORRIED THAT OUR FRIEND MIGHT BE CONFUSED.”

Asriel hisses through his teeth.  That’s it, then.  So much for keeping secrets.  He knows that you’re going to be _pissed_.

…

Nobody notices the short, skeletal monster in their midst- they’re too distracted by the pair of boss monsters who come running into the lobby. 

This is going to be a long, long day.

 

*

 

_I said some things that were not necessarily true._

**_No.  You…  You were telling the truth.  You DO deserve this more than me.  You were the one who saved Asriel, who LOADed every time we died, who helped me dodge every attack.  You’re the hero, Chara.  I’m getting credit for your achievements and that’s terrible.  A-and Asriel.  He’s YOUR brother, not mine.  You can…  You can have him.  That’s what you want, right?_ **

_I…  Erm…_

**_It’s not like anyone wanted me before I fell.  The only thing that’s made people care about me is the power that YOU gave me.  This is your happy ending, Chara, and I stole it.  I’m- I’m sorry._ **

_…Everything is going to be alright._

**_Yeah, it will be.  After you take control.  I don’t deserve this, Chara.  The things I did in the underground, trying to figure out how to save Asriel…_ **

_We killed those people together, Frisk.  Neither of us is innocent.  Besides, I was the one who proposed that plan in the first place._

**_But it was my body.  I-  I could have stopped, if I wanted to.  But I didn’t._ **

_You RESET eventually._

**_And what about the time that I killed Asriel?_ **

_You thought that engaging him in a FIGHT might force his SOUL back into being.  We all make mistakes._

**_Not many mistakes end in fratricide, Chara._ **

_You would be surprised. We are both, as Sans would say, ‘filthy brother murderers.’  Or something to that effect, it has been quite a while._

**_‘Dirty brother killers.’  And despite all that, I still think that you deserve this more than I do.  Why don’t you take control?   Weren’t you asking for it just a moment ago?_ **

_…Truthfully, I was hoping to get you angry at me._

**_What._ **

_I was hoping to snap you out of your episode.  You, er, you usually fight back when I get pushy.  I much prefer an angry Frisk over a weeping, terrified one._

**_You were trying to…  Help?  What?_ **

_Did you think that my ridiculous rant was genuine?_

**_Yes, I did._ **

_Frisk.  We have been over this a million times.  I do not want your happy ending for myself.  I am perfectly satisfied with watching Asriel from the side-lines while you keep him safe.  And despite my harshness…  Well…_

**_You were lying to me._ **

_I do not think I could forgive myself if something happened to you, Frisk.  You are my partner.  Our relationship is beneficial to me.  On a psychological level.  I would like it if you were happy, too._

Despite everything, they want to be...  Well, they’ll never say the word, but it’s obvious that they want to be friends.

_Don’t- er, do not.  Do not use that word.  I only have one ‘friend,’ and his name is Asriel._

You drum your claws on the countertop while you process what Chara’s said.  Despite their harshness and verbal vitriol, they don’t hate you- more than that, there’s a level of implicit trust that’s been earned by years of running through the underground, over and over. 

The thought of having such an enigmatic-but-helpful ally fills you with…  Something.

_HOPE.  It fills you with HOPE.  HP restored, and you appear to have SAVEd.  Without sufficient DT, it will be impossible to LOAD this SAVE point, but the sentiment is nice._

Huh.  That’s kind of neat.  Entirely useless, but neat.

You sit for a while, staring into the electric lantern placed on the countertop.  The light is actually pretty soothing.

 

_Frisk.  I…  I cannot believe that you have not noticed._

**_Noticed what?_ **

_Your t- nothing.  Nothing.  You will find out at the tailor’s_

**_Find what, exactly?_ **

_Nothing, nothing.  Heehee._

You’ve got a bad feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. The story's not, uh, not dead.  
> So. I want to spare you guys a sob story, but I also want to let you all know what's been going down, because you all deserve an update after 2+ months of near-silence.  
> Here we go:
> 
> I'm out of university on medical leave at the moment thanks to some mental health issues. I was in a pretty dark place for a while, and thinking some thoughts that I probably shouldn't have been thinking. I'd prefer not to pursue it further than that, except to say that I'm currently stable, medicated, and trying to get better. Writing is part of that process, I think, even if it's self-indulgent nonsense like this.
> 
> I have a Tumblr. I never actually post to it, but I have one all the same: http://orion-sez.tumblr.com/
> 
> Um. Thanks, to anyone who's actually stuck around with my shitty story, and to all the well-wishers out there. Just because I never respond doesn't mean I don't read what you say. It means a lot to know that someone out there, even an anonymous stranger, cares about what I do. I've gotten an offer for a beta-reader, but I have a limited time-frame (AKA- the hours at the local cafe) for using the internet, so I'll try and stay independent for now. Once things get more normal, I'll definitely take you up on that offer, if it's still open. You know who you are. 
> 
> Other notes of interest... There's a pretty big storm coming, so any readers who live in the Pacific Northwest should watch out for that. Make sure you've got flashlights, spare batteries, and plenty of food. I know that I've stocked up. 
> 
> And last but not least: an emphatic 'thank you' to everyone who's read this story, who's helped me proofread, and, uh, who's been a friend and helped me through these times. It means the world to me. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry, sorry, I really shouldn't be grandstanding in the notes of a freaking slashfic. I just don't have anywhere else to say these things.
> 
> Life is ugly and horrible, but it can be beautiful too. It's difficult, but I think that it's for the best that I decided to stick around for it. 
> 
> This is R. Dixon, signing out.
> 
> {CHAPTER 9 UPDATED WITH GRAMMATICAL & SPELLING FIXES.}


	10. This chapter was brought to you by SIBLING RIVALRIES.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean, Chara is sorta like a sibling. A creepy, violence-prone sibling who lives in your head and provides snarky commentary.
> 
> Yep.

Ugh.  What’s taking Sans so long?  You check your phone for the umpteenth time, but there’s no cellular reception in this part of the underground.  Pointless.  While your dear, defenceless brother faces hordes of humans alone, you’re sitting around waiting for fries. 

_The comedian did not simply take us here for food.  He is containing us.  Something is wrong._

**_‘Containing’ us?_ **

_There is something that he does not want us to know, or somewhere that he does not want us to be.  He keeps just as many secrets as you do.  I suspect that he is not in the kitchen at all._

**_You’re just being paranoid, Chara._ **

_Go on.  Prove me wrong.  Search the kitchen._

You hop off your stool and take the electric lantern from the countertop.  Its iron handle lets out a quiet squeak as the light swings beneath it.

_Electric Lantern acquired!  You feel your future growing brighter._

**_Ha.  Ha._ **

You move carefully towards the mislabelled “Fire Exit” in the back of the restaurant, stiffening with every creak of the floorboards.  You’d rather not cause any unnecessary damage to the already-dilapidated establishment. 

 

The rap of your knuckles against the door’s dull metal is slightly-muffled by your thick coat of fur. 

“Sans?  What’s taking you so long?”

…

_But nobody came._

You sigh and let your head rest against the ice-cold door.  Why can’t anything be simple?  After a moment spent gathering up initiative, you try the door’s handle- to be greeted by a hollow rattle.

_Locked.  You lack the required key._

Who locks the door in a vacated building in a town that might as well no longer exist?  Everything of value was stripped from the caverns years ago. 

_Someone with something to hide.  Keep prying._

And Chara’s in conspiracy theory mode.  You disregard their ill-advised comment and trudge back to the bar, lantern swinging in your grasp.  What a waste of time.

_You are not going to search the locked kitchen?_

**_There’s no point._ **

_That does not sound like the determined child I know.  Whatever happened to your spirit of adventure?_

**_I’m neither determined nor a child._ **

_But- but there may be a key under the bar.  Adventure!  Mystery!  Conspiracy!  Do you not want to learn of everything that the underground has to offer?  Is your curiosity not your greatest strength?_

You shake your head to clear out the wool between your ears.  That’s right, you’re Frisk Dreemurr, liberator of the underground!  There’s no secret too well-kept, no path too difficult for your unbridled DETERMINATION.

_That is the spirit!  Now, the key._

You grin to yourself.  Just like old times.  You get behind the bar and start searching through its oblong, musty shelves, paws ghosting over the dust and grime coating the rotted woodwork.  You’re not looking forward to cleaning all of this crap out of your fur, but that’s the cost of adventure.  After a few minutes of running your hands over filth, you decide to call it quits.  If there’s a key to the back door, it’s probably not sitting under the bar.  So where…?

_It is probable that the comedian carries it with him.  Who knows what inhumane, diabolical plots he hatches behind the door?_

**_Maybe he just locked it to keep dogs from raiding the kitchen.  I think there’s a few who still live down here._ **

_That solution is too mundane to be correct.  Have you not noticed that everything you find in the underground is indicative of some greater truth, some powerful machination?_

**_Oh, even the ficus-licker in MTT resort?_ **

_Mm.  Point taken._

You return to the front of the bar and settle down on one of the stools, defeated by your own common sense.  What a waste of time.  Why couldn’t Sans have taken you to somewhere less dreary?

 

…

 

Elsewhere.

“M-Mettaton, are you s-sure that this is a good idea?  I-I mean I know that y-you’re the one with the business empire and the money and the adoring fans and the…  The…”

“ALPHYS, ALPHYS, ALPHYS.  DARLING.  DO YOU REMEMBER THE GLITZ AND GLAMOUR OF MY E.X. FORME’S PREMIER?  THE CHEERING CROWDS?  THE RATINGS?”

“Y-yeah, I watched the recording after it aired.  That was, um, one of your better episodes!”

“YES, WELL, THE HUMA- **AHEM** \- THE AMBASSADOR MADE MY NEW BODY’S PREMIER A GLORIOUS SUCCESS, DIDN’T THEY?  IT’S TIME THAT I PAID THEM BACK IN FULL! I’LL MAKE THE HUMANS LOVE THE AMBASSADOR’S NEW BODY _ALMOST_ AS MUCH AS THEY LOVE MINE.”

“B-b-but isn’t it a little…  Pr-presumptuous?  How do you know- uh- how do you know that this is what they want?”

“DARLING.  LET ME LET YOU IN ON A WELL-KEPT SECRET HERE IN SHOWBIZ: EVERYONE.  WANTS.  GLAMOUR.  OH, THEY MIGHT GNASH THEIR TEETH AND MOAN ABOUT WANTING TO BE ‘RESPECTABLE’ OR ‘TRADITIONAL’ OR ‘NOT DRESSED LIKE A PROSTITUTE,’ BUT THOSE ARE JUST CODEWORDS FOR ‘DULL AND UNINSPIRING.’  AN EVENT THIS IMPORTANT SHOULDN’T BE PUTTING THOSE HUMAN BANKERS TO SLEEP.”

“Th-they’re politicians, Mettaton.  N-not bankers.”

“OLD HUMANS IN SUITS, ALPHIE, IS THERE REALLY ANY DIFFERENCE?  THEY MIGHT BE BORING ON THE OUTSIDE, BUT ON THE INSIDE, THERE’S ALWAYS A SUPERSTAR WAITING TO BE SET LOOSE.”

“O-oh no, oh no, I need to warn them…”

“OH, DARLING, IT’LL BE SUCH A SURPRISE!  A GLORIOUS, FASHIONABLE SURPRISE PLASTERED WITH GOLDEN FLOWERS AND MTT-BRAND CELEBRATION PASTE!  THIS EVENT WILL BE GOING DOWN IN HISTORY!”

“I-I’ve gotta go!”

“BUH-BYE, ALPHIE, DEAR!”

CLICK.

The large, rectangular robot claps his white-gloved hands together as his cooling fans begin to whir with excitement.  He’s finally found a way to repay this old debt. 

 

…

 

A blue flash startles you out of your thoughts.  Sans.

“heya, kiddo.  sorry for the wait.  i was just scoping things out back at the hotel.”

“…And?”

“it’s fine.  nothin’ to worry about.”

“Good, we can get back.  I have a crowded itinerary, and I really can’t afford any delays.”

“nah.”

“What do you mean, no?  Why can’t I go back?  You said that everything’s fine.”

“i said there was nothin’ to worry about.  for you, anyway.  your bro’s still tied up with the murder case, and i’m notletting you out in the city alone.  ‘specially not when there’s a killer on the loose.”

“You could always come with me, if you’re so frightened.  Not that you need to be.  Sans, I can look out for myself.  If something goes wrong, I can always LOA- oh.”

“yeah.  if you die, it’s game over for real.  so, uh, try to be a lil’ more careful.  no more running security detail for your bro.  ‘sides, he can take care of himself.”

“Oh, because Az is _the strongest monster ever_.  Right.”

“you’d be surprised.  kid’s gotten precise with those star-attacks of his.  it’s pretty impressive stuff.”

You can’t help but raise a brow at that statement.  Since when has Sans been privy to your brother’s magical ability?  _You_ don’t even know what he’s capable of, and you’re family.

“whaddaya think your bro does when he pops over to snowdout?  paps and him train together all the time.  and besides, s’not like he coulda showed you his patterns.  woulda had to start a FIGHT to pull that off, and, uh, humans and magic don’t mix.” 

“But- but if he killed me I could just LOAD.”

“even if it isn’t permanent, your bro doesn’t wanna hurt you.  ‘course, now that you’re a monster, he can show off without causing any trouble.  once things calm down, he’ll probably wanna do that.  speakin’ of which- since we’re down here, do you mind if i see your magic?

_You have no idea how to use magic._

**_Neither do you, Chara._ **

_I read a textbook; you did not.  Clearly, I am the more qualified mage._

**_Monsters who use magic aren’t called “mages.”_ **

_But I am not a monster._

**_If you’re controlling a monster’s body, doesn’t that mean that you’re a monster?_ **

_But I am not controlling a monster’s body at the moment._

**_To do magic, you’d have to control my body.  Ergo, you’d have to be a monster to use magic.  Ergo, you aren’t a mage._ **

_By definition, I am still the more qualified mage, since monsters cannot be mages._

**_But you can’t do magic without using a monster’s body.  Since you are defining yourself as a magic-user, you’re a monster._ **

_Shut up._

**_You shut up._ **

_No, you._

**_Why would you want to BE a mage, anyways?  All mages ever did was seal monsters underground.  They’re awful._ **

_But mage sounds cool._

**_You’re such a kid._ **

_I died as a child.  I will always be one.  And you must admit that mage sounds cooler._

**_“Mage” sounds like a type of spice._ **

_And “monster” is an energy drink._

**_Low blow._ **

_You started it._

**_No I didn’t.  You’re the one who called yourself a mage._ **

_I AM a mage._

“kiddo, thinking is great and all, but what are you even thinking about?”

 

“Theoretical question.  Let’s say that a monster absorbs a human SOUL, and the human retains some level of agency- maybe they can even switch who has control.  Now let’s say that they have theoretical knowledge of magic but were unable to use it as a human.  If their SOUL takes control of the monster’s body and channels magic, would that make the human a mage or not?”

Sans stares at you.

“what.”

“Not that I consider myself a human in control of a monster’s body- because I’m not; I’m just a monster.  It’s a theoretical question.”

Sans scratches the back of his skull and averts his gaze for a moment.

“wow, kid.  glad to know that you think such, uh, _revolutionary_ thoughts.  really powerful stuff.  tori would be proud.  anyways.  if the human couldn’t have used magic as a human, then nah, i don’t think they’re a mage.  as far as i know, mages are, uh, _humans_ who can use magic.”

You pump your fist in the air.

“Yes!  I mean- Yes.  That’s what I thought, too.”

**_Told you so._ **

_He barely put any effort into his answer.  Yours is simply the more topical solution.  Mine is more well-thought-out and nuanced._

**_Sore loser. But, uh, seriously, you probably DO know more about magic than I do.  So maybe, as a favour to the winner, you might…  Take over and show Sans some magic?  Please?_ **

Chara huffs, and you imagine that they’d be crossing their arms if they had any.

_Fiiiiiiine.  Hand over the reins._

You close your eyes, and Chara opens them.

_Let us get this over with._

Their shoulders square and they sit up straighter.

_By the by, Frisk- your posture is terrible.  Stop slouching._

**_Who cares?_ **

_I do.  It is unprofessional._

**_We’re with Sans.  There’s nothing professional about this setting._ **

_But a bad habit might manifest itself at an inconvenient time.  It is best to practice good posture whenever possible._

**_Easy for you to say._ **

_Hmph.  Lazy._

“Sans.  I apologize for the nonsequiter.”                                    

“huh?  oh, no problem.  you, uh, you seem on edge all of a sudden.  something wrong?”

“No, not at all.  I am simply eager to demonstrate my magical ability.”

Chara stands and faces Sans.

“right, right.  let’s do this.  i’ll start the FIGHT.”

 

Their SOUL- your SOUL- doesn’t come into view.

ACT> Question

“…Something is wrong.  Why is my SOUL not appearing?”

“kiddo, if your SOUL is outside your body, you’re either dyin’ or, uh, doing somethin’ dirty.”

“I do not understand.”

“sex.  i’m talkin’ about sex.”

ACT> Disgust

They twist their muzzle- your muzzle- into a grimace.

“Eugh.  I would rather not.”

**_Such.  A kid._ **

“believe me, kiddo, that makes two of us.  no offense, but you’re not really my type.  i like my fluffy goat monsters a bit older and taller.”

It’s odd to laugh without a body, but you do so anyways.

_Ugh.  If he is implying that he has a ‘thing’ for Mom, so help me there will be consequences._

**_You called her “mom.”  Didn’t we- heh- didn’t we have a bet about that at one point?_ **

_Ugh, fine, Toriel, whatever.  This is tiring and the FIGHT has not even properly commenced.  You owe me._

**_The winner doesn’t owe the loser anything.  Oh!  Oh!  And say, uh, say that his only other option is Asriel!_ **

_I am not telling him to participate in coitus with my brother.  That is disgusting._

**_It sounds gross, I know, but it’s the only way to turn this around and flirt._ **

_Why would I-_

**_Do it!  Do it!  Do it!_ **

_Ugh._

ACT> “Flirt”

“Your…  Only other option…  Is to…  Is to partake in carnal acts with my brother?  Which you might find…  Erm…  Unsatisfactory.”

**_That was terrible._ **

_I WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOU DO BETTER, FRISK DREEMURR._

Sans waggles his bony brows at them.                        

“You sayin’ that from experience?”

Chara stumbles backwards, horror painted on their muzzle- your muzzle.

**_Jeeze, Chara, you’re getting trashed._ **

_That was- that was disgusting, but I am still doing fine.  HP is at 60 out of 60.  What are you talking about?_

**_Winning a FIGHT isn’t always about depleting the enemy’s HP._ **

_Stop being cryptic._

**_Stop being an awful flirt._ **

_Ugh.  This is a waste of time._

FIGHT

Chara lunges at Sans, fangs bared.  Fortunately for everyone involved, they’ve not adjusted to your body, and immediately trip.  Their- your- muzzle crashes painfully into the hardwood floor.

**_Nice going, klutz.  We lost 3 HP.  What was your game plan, anyways? You were unarmed._ **

_I am in control.  I need no weapon to impose my iron will._

Riiiiight.

Sans hisses through his teeth. 

“jeeze, kid, that looked pretty painful.  you alright?  also, there’s nothin’ magic about whatever that was.  sorry, kiddo.  try again.”

ACT> Insult

Chara jerks themselves upwards, stumbling in the process, and sneers at Sans.

“Smartass.”

Sans shrugs noncommittally.

“hey, i get called an ass all the time, but the _smart_ thing is new.  thanks for the compliment, kiddo.”

**_Are you ever going to use magic?  You know, the reason that we’re in this FIGHT?_ **

_Do not rush me.  I am still…  Still in control of the situation._

**_Oh, really._ **

 

Chara relaxes their shoulders and closes their- your- eyes, inhaling deeply.

_Magic…  Is all about finding your inner self.  The truest essence of your SOUL.  Or so I have been told.  Of course, the only SOUL in this body is not truly mine.  Perhaps…  Perhaps you should take control for this portion.  It is only right that the magic fuelled by your SOUL gets used by you._

**_So there was no point to putting you in control in the first place?_ **

_Now I do not owe you anything for winning that stupid argument._

**_Chara, you sly dog._ **

_Eheh.  Handing over control…_

**_Now._ **

You keep the calm, neutral pose that Chara had assumed. 

**_Uh…  What now?  How do I ‘find the truest essence of my SOUL?’_ **

_…I do not know.  Perhaps performing a CHECK might be of use.  Allow me…_

ACT> Check> Frisk Dreemurr

_Frisk Dreemurr.  4(+0) ATK.  0(+8) DEF.  Smells like butterscotch and golden flowers.  Mostly harmless._

**_That…  Wasn’t very informative.  Does everyone see that when they CHECK me?_ **

_As far as I can tell, yes.  Let us try CHECKing your SOUL._

**_You can do that?_ **

_I have no idea.  I have never tried._

“guess you take after me.  since you, uh, aren’t doing anything.”

“Thinking.  About magic, this time.”

You don’t bother with opening your eyes to gauge Sans’s reaction.

ACT> Check> SOUL

_The true nature of SOUL is unknown.  57/60 HP.  0 EXP.  1 LV.  Needs to be SAVED._

**_“Needs to be SAVED?”  What does that mean?_ **

_…I do not know.  Hm.  Perhaps…  Yes.  Yes, I will try to ask for help._

**_What?_ **

_I am running out of ideas._

ACT> Check> Help

_…?  I can sense something._

It’s a tiny electric, fluttering sensation inside of your chest, barely noticeable- but yes, you can feel it, too.

**_What is this?_ **

ACT> Check> Help

_…  I think I can see something.  An outline of…  Of something small.  I cannot tell what it is._

**_Even though my eyes are closed, I can see it, too._ **

_Perhaps we are getting close to a solution._

ACT> Check> Help

_A single, golden flower.  How curious.  I can even smell the pollen._

The electric sensation inside of you builds further, becoming a strong- but not unpleasant- pulse of energy that sends jitters through your body.  You feel **powerful**.

**_The- the feeling in my chest.  It’s stronger now.  Is this magic?_ **

_Try releasing it.  Focus on getting that feeling outside of your body.  It is plausible that this is, indeed, magical energy._

…You don’t know how, but you **let go**.

 

“huh.  nice going, _bud._  knew you had it in ya.”

Sans’s chatter shatters your concentration; you can’t help but open your eyes to glare at him in annoyance.  You were _so close_ to-

Oh. 

The mouldering, dank bar is choked with the too-familiar scent of golden flowers.  You can make out dozens of tiny, white, glowing flower petals, floating around you slowly.  Is that…?

“i mean, your patterns could use some work, but it’s a pretty good start.  maybe try moving your bullets around?”

 

…

Magic.  **Your** magic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to break my record of never being able to finish a story. This fic will be updated if it kills me.   
> I apologize if this chapter's flow seems clunky or odd in any way. I'm trying to get back into the flow, heheh.
> 
> "Snowdout" is Snowdin's surface-counterpart. Shitty puns and all that.


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